


As the Sapling Bends

by bmot



Series: Dragon Age AU [1]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragon Age Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9154351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmot/pseuds/bmot
Summary: (Note on the archive warning: there isn’t anything graphic regarding the abuse, and it all takes place in the past, but I put it on there since those scenes may still be triggering.)Like most Tevinter elves, Jinki and Taemin were born into slavery. They escaped the country in early adulthood and found safety in a clan of Dalish elves before going their separate ways: Jinki staying with the Dalish clan, and Taemin embarking on the travels he’d always dreamed of having.When Jinki visits a human mage named Jonghyun that his clan trades with, he finds Taemin sick in his cabin. Distrustful of the mage and wanting to catch up with his old friend, he visits the cabin over the months and finds himself confronting issues he’d thought long buried.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for past sexual abuse, grooming, slavery, animal death, and gore. There isn’t anything graphic regarding the abuse, but it may be triggering.
> 
> I wrote all of this in about…two months, after my second playthrough of dragon age: inquisition. It’s is a bit different than anything else I’ve written, in that it bounces between past and present events. My betas thought that keeping those sections in present tense was best, so that is what I did. Hopefully it’s not confusing! But just in case, flashback sections are marked with a different divider (♦♦♦) than sections taking place in the present (***). 
> 
> None of this stuff is necessary stuff to get the fic, but for anyone who is curious, Jinki’s markings look roughly like [this](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Cn5PiRyVIAILScA.jpg) (apologies for the crappy doodle…I don’t really draw much and I don’t have scanner). 
> 
> Lore notes for fellow DA nerds (or anyone intereted) are at the end.

Jinki knows that he’s close. He’s been walking for about the right length of time, and the bushes of silvery-blue berries the Keeper had told him to look for have begun to replace the bristles that typically fill the paths between the trees. Though he’s become used to the woods, he still dislikes wandering out alone.

Jinki holds his breath when he finally reaches the small cabin. To anyone else, it would look like a haven in the middle of the dark forest. Flowers line every corner of the structure, blooming out in broad sweeps to the fence that encloses a garden with filled crystal grace and prophet’s laurel. It’s clearly the house of a healer, but that gives Jinki little comfort. Knowing an apostate mage lives inside is enough to make his heart clench with dread.

Swallowing hard, he fights back his instinct to turn and leave and puts one foot forward. Jungah had said the man was fair in trade, and had been kind to the Lavellan clan since the day he’d arrived.

_If only Jungah hadn’t gotten pregnant, she could be doing this instead of me_. Jinki grits his teeth and approaches the door. Why did they have to send him out to negotiate with the human mage?

He draws his fist back, then knocks lightly on the worn wood.

Instantly, someone moves inside. He manages to make out the sound of blankets shuffling, followed by a movement of pots and a quick scatter of feet across wood. The door opens a second later, revealing a short man with disheveled brown hair wearing an equally wrinkled robe.

“Ah, hello.” The mage smiles at him in greeting. Whether his eyes are swollen from recent sleep or exhaustion, Jinki can’t tell. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, but I assume you’re with clan Lavellan. Jungah must be too far along with her child to make the journey, I’m guessing?”

“Yes.” Jinki says, not bothering to smile back. The sooner he gets out of here, the better. “We would like some more of the wards and salves you’ve made.”

“Of course. I’ve already made some to help her with labor, in case it’s needed…I’ve been running low on herbs myself, and I can even aid their growth magically,” he sighs. “It’s been a bad season. You can come in.”

Jinki stands at the threshold as he decides whether to accept the invitation. He scans the room to make sure the mage’s staff is out of reach, then steps inside, making sure to put himself between the item and the mage.

“I think I should have as many as Jungah asked me to prepare last time, though I’ve had to use a fair bit myself,” the mage continues as he heads over to a desk. “I’m working on something to repel insects as well, though I’m not sure that would interest you. I don’t think bugs are nearly as attracted to your kind as they are mine…”

Any attention Jinki had been giving the mage vanishes when he looks at the bed. He’d heard the mage lived alone, but there was someone wrapped in the covers — someone with elven ears.

He doesn’t have time to consider a plan of action or demand an explanation before the person in the bed stirs. He turns over, pushing his long hair back from his face to look up with weary eyes. “Jonghyun, you have visitors…?”

Jinki’s eyes widen. Even with the drawl of exhaustion, he recognizes the accent — common with a heavy hint of Tevene, just like his own. He watches as the man props himself up with shaking arms, blanket slipping away to reveal a bare chest with scars he knows as well as his own name.

Taemin stares back. He rubs at his eyes, then squints at him. “I must have a fever again…”

“Taemin?” Jinki asks.

The sound of his voice seems to jar Taemin. He blinks, then stares, looking between the mage and Jinki for some kind of confirmation that what he’s seeing is real.

The mage might as well not be in the room. Jinki dashes over to the bed, breath leaving him as his eyes travel over Taemin’s face. It had been nearly three years since Jinki had seen him. His wonder is broken when he runs a hand over Taemin’s cheek, heart catching in his chest at the fever-hot skin under his palm.

“I’d wondered if you stayed with the Lavellan clan,” Taemin mumbles before leaning into Jinki’s palm. ”Are you well?”

“Weller than you, it seems…” Jinki doesn’t have time to finish that thought.

The sound of feet shifting across the wood floor snaps Jinki’s attention back to the inhabitant of the cabin. He reaches for the dagger on his thigh before the mage can step closer, expression darkening as he puts together the pieces of the situation in his mind — Taemin is bare in the bed of a human, a mage, and weaker than Jinki had ever seen him. Nothing good could have happened.

His fingers clench tightly around the hilt even as he keeps his tone level, not wanting to tip off the mage before he gets close. “Why do you have an elf in your bed?”

“He’s a friend,” the mage answers, a slight shake in the words. “He fell sick, and I’m trying to help him get better.”

“How long has he been here?” Jinki presses, unable to see the hesitance in the mage’s tone as anything but proof of a lie. His mind is already flashing to the possibilities. Maybe Taemin never made it to the Amaranthine Ocean he’d so badly wanted to see. Maybe he’d been here all this time — hidden each time the Lavellan traders had visited to deal with the apostate, and kept weak, used for blood whenever the damned apostate wanted more power for a spell—

“Jinki—” Taemin’s hand circles his wrist in a weak plea. “He’s a healer. I’m sick. It’s that simple.”

His pulse continues to thrum loudly in his ears even as he sheathes the dagger back into its holster. “My clan has healers, Taemin. I can take you there.”

Taemin slumps against the pillows of the bed. “I can’t go back there. You know that.”

“They might make an exception since you’re ill. You’re still elven, after all.”

The mage clears his throat. “Though your healers are better, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Even if he were allowed back, he’s too weak to travel now. He barely made it here alive.”

Jinki turns to glare at the mage. “I can carry him. He needn’t take a single step. You have no reason to keep him—”

“Please, Jinki,” Taemin cuts him off. His voice cracks midway through his plea, and it’s only then that Jinki realizes Taemin is shaking with exhaustion. “Let it go. I’m too tired to argue, and I don’t want to return to the clan.”

Jinki bites his lip. The stubborn part of him wants to take advantage of Taemin’s exhaustion and drag him back to the Lavellan clan, willing or not, but he knows better than to think Taemin would make it easy. Resigned, he sighs, murmuring to Taemin in Tevene to keep the mage from understanding him, “Fine. I won’t make you leave. But I can’t leave you here alone with him.”

“Yes, you can.” Taemin says, pointedly in the common tongue to include the mage. “I stayed with Jonghyun when I first left the clan. He treated me well then, as he does now.”

The mage shifts on his feet, uncomfortable at being the center of their argument when he can only understand half of it. Jinki ignores him and continues speaking to Taemin in Tevene. “You’re sure you’re alright? Alone here with a human?”

“Every other healer turned me away, Jinki. Either for being elven, for being from Tevinter, or because they were too damn busy with the war going on.” Taemin huffs. “If it wasn’t for Jonghyun, I’d have to ride out this sickness in the elven slums. I want to stay here.”

“Do you not want to see me at all?”

Taemin’s expression softens when he switches to Tevene. “It’s not that. You were just here to get herbs for your clan, and I don’t want to delay that.”

“You’re more important than any herbs.” Jinki reaches for Taemin’s hand, no mind to whether the illness that has him bedridden is contagious or not. He sighs. “Seems you do remember how to speak Tevene, then.”

“Just because I’ve wandered, doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten where I’m from,” Taemin says. “And I’m glad to see you.” He smiles weakly. “Very glad, especially after so long…I wish we could have more time together, but I do need to stay here for now. I can barely stay awake more than a few hours.”

Jinki bites on the inside of his cheek to keep back another remark. Though it had been years since they’d last seen each other, he knows better than to tell Taemin what’s best for him — even in illness, the stubborn jut of his chin is the same. He’ll have to find another way to ensure his safety, one less direct.

With that thought, he gives an assenting nod, and Taemin lays back against the bed. “Thank you.” He sighs and pushes back his hair, eyes slipping half-shut. “All that arguing drained me…I think I need to rest, or I’ll faint again.”

“Alright,” Jinki agrees. He squeezes Taemin’s fingers. “I’ll visit soon.”

Taemin manages only a weak smile and a nod before his eyes slip closed. The mage jumps up the moment his breath evens, coming quickly to Taemin’s side to press a hand to his pulse.

Jinki steps away, allowing the mage room. His fingers itch with the urge to snatch Jonghyun’s hands away, but the strained furrow of Taemin’s brow stops him. He wants to know exactly why Taemin thinks this mage can be trusted, though he doesn’t want to push when he’s so obviously ill. He can determine if the mage is trustworthy himself.

Jonghyun presses to Taemin’s forehead, voice only a whisper when he turns back to Jinki. “He really was tired. He’s already asleep again.”

“I’ll let him rest,” Jinki says. A plan of how to test the mage is already forming in his mind, but he needs to let Jonghyun think he’s gone first. “Now, about our trade?”

“Right — sorry.” Jonghyun stands quickly. He takes the wards and salves one-by-one from the pile by his desk and places them in a satchel, careful to keep any of the glass vials from clinking against each other.

After stepping outside with Jinki, Jonghyun passes him the bag of supplies. “I’m caring for your friend until he’s well. Nothing more, I promise.”

“I should hope that’s true. For you as well as him.” Jinki fastens his pack shut with shaking hands. He peers through the open doorway, and seeing Taemin’s eyes are half-lidded, lowers his voice to be sure only Jonghyun can hear him. “I might not know human affairs outside of Tevinter well, but I know enough to be sure an apostate wouldn’t be missed.”

Jonghyun pales.

“I’ll bring these back to Lavellan,” Jinki says, satisfied with himself when he sees the fear in Jonghyun’s eyes as he steps back towards the woods. He takes the loudest path he can into the trees, stepping his heel into the dried twigs and letting the low-hanging branches brush noisily against his arms until he’s far out from the cabin. Once he’s certain Jonghyun can no longer hear him, he sets his heavy pack and tent on the ground before settling quietly against the wide trunk of the nearest tree.

He’ll wait for dark, then approach the cabin again in silence. Anything ill the mage is up to, he’ll find out then.

***

When the sun is set, Jinki stands and stretches. He won’t be able to move in stealth with stiff limbs, and concentrating on the movements is a useful way to calm his nerves. Though he wants to take Taemin at his word and be sure he’ll find them eating a quiet dinner or sleeping apart, he can’t trust so easily. His mind is swimming with too many images of what he might walk in on to leave unprepared for a fight. Plugging his nose, he checks the sharpness of his favorite dagger before pouring the small vial of deathroot extract he had brought over the blade. Mages are easily susceptible to the delusions it caused. Even if he can’t manage to kill the man, he can use the confusion to carry Taemin to safety if need be.

He follows the same path he had tread earlier in the day back to the cabin. Thankfully, the wind is with him. His footsteps fall quiet under the rustle of trees and brush, making it easy for him to slip his way around the fence and through the shadows. He takes a spot by the window and tilts his head up, straining his ears to listen when he hears Taemin’s voice.

“He’s only suspicious because you’re a human mage. He means well.”

“I’m sure he does, if you were friends.” A long sigh follows the statement. “But it’s still a bit hard to have my life threatened and be happy about it…”

“You don’t need to be happy about it. This situation won’t go on for long,” Taemin says. “Once I’m well, I’ll go back to wandering, and he’ll go back to the clan.”

The sound of a guitar being absently strummed replaces their voices until Jonghyun sighs again. “I don’t mean to dampen your spirits, but I think your recovery will take a while. Maybe a few months, even. You’ll need a good amount of strength to travel alone, and you’re still too sick to even stand for long.”

“I heal quickly, you’ll see.” Taemin protests. “In a week’s time, you’ll be the one in bed, and I’ll be the one standing beside you — like that one position we tried before I left last time.”

The sharp sound of a wrongly-plucked string makes Jinki flinch, and he doesn’t need to see Taemin to know the wicked grin he’s wearing. It should remind him of happier times, when Taemin was first growing into his handsome looks and flirting with anything that had a pulse, but it only makes his gut clench. Willing or not, the thought of Taemin bedding a human brings sickness to his throat.

Jonghyun’s laugh lasts past the end of the awry note, low and shy. “You’re ridiculous, you know. But you haven’t changed a bit.”

Taemin huffs. “Except I’m too weak to bed anyone now.”

“You’ll get back to it, don’t worry,” Jonghyun reassures. “But you’re certain you don’t want to go back to Lavallen? Your friend was right about them being able to help you more than I can…it may take some time off your recovery.”

“I’m certain. They pushed me out when I refused to give up worshiping the Maker for their blighted elven gods. They wouldn’t want me back.”

Jinki bites the inside of his cheek. He barely remembers the day Taemin had left — he’d gotten so caught up in his anger at Taemin for rejecting their chance at a full life without humans. Even their parting hug had been brief.

Jonghyun’s voice is gentle when he breaks the silence. “You truly don’t think your friend could convince them to help you?”

“Even if he did, their healers would spend more time trying to convert me back to the proper old ways than letting me rest, since I’m a damned flat-ear to them. That’s not something I want to deal with.”

“I suppose not,” Jonghyun laughs. “If they’re anything like the Chantry sisters I’ve met, I can only imagine.”

“Much worse. At least they don’t want to give you tattoos and force you to run barefoot…” Taemin trails off into a deep yawn that ends in an angry sigh. “Dammit. I want to talk all night like we used to, but I already feel ready for sleep again.”

A chair scrapes against wood floors when Jonghyun stands. “Don’t worry about it — I’m used to having no company. This is enjoyable on its own.”

The small light from the candles near the cabin window disappears a second later, snubbed out by magic. Jinki holds his breath when he hears the sheets shuffle. He can only imagine that it’s the mage joining Taemin in bed — there had only been one, after all — and he reaches for his knife, hand shaking as he prepares to storm through the window if needed.

A shaky sigh breaks the tension, followed by the mage’s voice. “You’re sure I don’t need to worry about being killed in my sleep?”

“No, Jinki wouldn’t do that to someone I’m fond of,” Taemin says. “Not without telling me first.”

“Reassuring.”

“…I think you should set up another cot, though.” Taemin says, quiet enough that Jinki nearly misses it. “So it doesn’t look like we’ve shared a bed before.”

After a long silence, and then the bed creaks as someone turns on the mattress. “Your friend would be bothered by that?”

“I think it’d make him less friendly towards you, is all.”

Jinki waits, expecting Taemin to explain further — what the human mage that had owned them had done to them before they escaped, or the fact he and Taemin had almost been too close to call each other old _friends_  — but none comes. He closes his eyes and steadies his breathing, trying to fill the empty gap in his chest until he finally judges that both Taemin and Jonghyun have fallen asleep.

It takes him some time after that to stand, and longer still to return to his belongings and brave the long walk back to the clan. He can see well enough in the dark, but the thought that he’s leaving Taemin behind with a strange _shem_ leaves him gritting his teeth and holding his knife the whole way.

♦♦♦

Jinki smiles when he sees Taemin waiting alone for him on the stone terrace of the gardens. He doesn’t want to share the treats he’d brought with anyone else, and he already knows Taemin’s stomach is big enough to empty the basket alone.

“Brought a special snack,” Jinki says. He knocks Taemin’s eager hand away so he can set the basket down, grinning for the dramatic reveal when he pulls back the blanket covering the layers of small tarts.

“These are royal berries on there, aren’t they?” Taemin asks, eyes wide as he reaches for the biggest one. “Where’d you get these?”

“The master gave them to me,” Jinki says proudly. “And yes, they’re royal berries, He said I did good work carving the patterns I designed into his headboard and that I deserved something special. I made the overall design Antivan-inspired, but kept the patterns thoroughly Tevene…”

“Mmm,” Taemin responds, too busy shoving another tart in his mouth to answer fully. He works through the treat quickly, swallowing it only half-chewed before reaching for another. “Sounds nice.”

Jinki frowns. “You didn’t even listen.”

“I don’t need to,” Taemin says. He wipes at the corner of his mouth, eyes twinkling. “I know you’re good with wood.”

“You’re obscene,” Jinki snaps back, but smiles wide. Taemin had been making jokes about bedding him more lately, often enough for Jinki to run out of witty retorts. The prospect of it had become too real, especially since Taemin had made a deal with another servant to switch to the bedroll next to Jinki’s. He woke up too many nights with Taemin’s arm draped over his waist to not think of it.

“Maybe I am a bit obscene,” Taemin says with a knowing grin. “But if you’re sharing special treats with me, you must not mind it.”

“I suppose I don’t.” Jinki laughs. He’d always told himself he wouldn’t get involved, in case one of them were sold, but…the looks Taemin keeps giving him have made him push that promise to the back of his mind.

“You know,” Taemin’s small hand covers the back of his, and Jinki looks at it to avoid his gaze. “The Altus nobles aren’t allowed anything with each other, if they’re both men.”

“Yeah?” Jinki says, as if he didn’t know, because he wants Taemin to speak.

“It’s forbidden,” Taemin says with authority. His fingers are moving over Jinki’s now, exploring the space between them absentmindedly with a familiarity that makes Jinki buzz from his knuckles to his toes. “And it makes me think. We might not be blessed by the Maker, to be born here as slaves…but in some ways I consider myself lucky.”

Jinki’s throat is too dry to manage an agreement. The most his body can manage is looking up, and that leaves him red, breath coming hard as if he had been sweating in the gardens for hours. He watches as Taemin’s hand leaves his, eyes following the fumbling movement as it comes closer until it disappears from his vision and rests on his chin.

Taemin kisses him lightly. A crumb of the tart scratches at the corner of Jinki’s lips, but it’s still perfect. Taemin is soft and warm, and when Jinki reaches up his hair is like silk between his fingers.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that — he only knows that he forgets to breathe, and moves away suddenly when he realizes the whole garden is spinning around him, eyes squeezed shut out of embarrassment as he gasps for air.

To his credit, Taemin looks equally flushed when he pulls away. He rubs at his neck, looking at the sky for a distraction and clears his throat. “Anyway, as you were saying — I don’t see why he had you doing the carving in his bedroom. Didn’t they have to sweep away the wood shavings, then?”

“I have to do that myself,” Jinki sighs. “But I suppose he didn’t want the wood damaged as they tried to get it in the room? It had such a beautiful grain to it…would be a shame if it were scratched.”

Taemin snickers. “I’d love to have some beautiful wood myself.”

Jinki pushes him, but lets his arm linger. The tips of his fingers play absently with the ends of Taemin’s hair.

***

The sight of bright silken sails of aravels peeking through the trees brings the first relief Jinki’s felt for hours. He quickens his pace towards the Lavellan camp, aching for the familiarity of his clan after encountering his past and a human mage. Only when he sees the burnt-out embers of his clan’s campfire does he think to quiet his steps to keep from waking his fellow clan members. It must be later than he realized, if even the usual late-night storytellers have retreated into to their bedrolls.

Taking off the satchel stuffed with the mage’s goods, he tip-toes around the camp until he finds the healer’s aravel. He won’t be able to open the magically-locked compartment in the back, but he can at least leave the goods here. After he rounds one of the aravel’s large wheels, he freezes, caught off guard when his bare feet touch the corner of someone’s bedroll.

The owner sits up slowly, and a quick apology leaving Jinki’s lips. “ _Abelas_ —”

“You’re back late,” Joonmyeon observes, sleep scratching at his voice. He rubs his eye, shifting the vine markings that curve like snakes around his left brow and cheek. “I was worried you got lost, _da'len_.”

Jinki raises his chin stubbornly, eyes flashing at the diminutive nickname. The term is used for younger elves, but Joonmyeon had always insisted the years Jinki spent outside the clan hadn’t counted in his age. “I don’t get lost.”

“Of course not.” Joonmyeon yawns and stands. With a gesture for Jinki to follow, he shuffles around to the back of the aravel. The magic sigil on the back lights when he waves his hand over it, opening the compartment to their healing stores and a few of Joonmyeon’s personal trinkets. Though their keeper still serves as the primary healer for the clan, her involvement in trade and other matters leaves Joonmyeon in charge of creating salves and potions.

When Joonmyeon reaches out, Jinki hands over the satchel wordlessly. Joonmyeon unfastens the latches and squints at the dark inside of the bag. “Did you get everything I asked for?”

He nods, too busy trying to decide if he wants to tell Joonmyeon that he had found Taemin in Jonghyun’s cabin to help check the inventory. For all his mind had been swimming at the discovery, he hadn’t decided how to explain the situation to his clan, or if he wanted to try and convince a healer to come with him and help Taemin. Though they had pushed Taemin out of the clan, there hadn’t been any resentment, as far as he was aware. It was simply a matter of preserving the old ways — no Andrastian elf could make a home among the Dalish.

The clink of bottles and the rustle of herbs fills the silence between them until Joonmyeon speaks. “You’re unusually quiet.”

“Am I?” Jinki chews on his lip.

“I’d say so,” Joonmyeon says, raising a brow. “And you’re normally never late.”

Jinki wrings his hands together. Confessing his worries never came easy to him, but out of everyone in the clan, Joonmyeon is the person who understands him most.

After a deep breath, he forces out the shortest explanation he can manage with the hope that Joonmyeon can fill in the rest. “I saw Taemin.”

“Taemin…” Joonmyeon frowns as tries to place the name. “That’s the boy you came with from Tevinter, isn’t it?“

“Yes, that’s him.” Jinki fights the urge to add more details. His background with Taemin had always been more than he could put into words.

"I thought he left and went flat-eared…he’s not trying to return to us, is he?”

“He left to see the world, not to live with humans,” Jinki says, a touch defensive. As much as he had disagreed with Taemin’s decision to leave the Dalish clan that had taken them in after their escape from Tevinter, he never believed it made him anything but elven. He bites back his opinion, already knowing that Joonmyeon would disagree, and continues. “So no, he doesn’t want to return to us. He came back because he was ill, and apparently no one on the road would care for him. He’s staying with that mage now.”

“Oh?” Joonmyeon’s interest is visibly lost as he pushes the last of the herbs Jinki had brought into a jar. “Your friend will be fine then, you needn’t worry. Jonghyun’s a good human — he’ll care for anyone he comes across. Never been anything but fair with us.”

Jinki scowls. “He’s still a _shem_ — and a magic one, living outside of a Circle. I want to keep an eye on him until Taemin is better.”

Joonmyeon stares at him sharply. “Technically, I belong in a Circle as well. They’re prisons meant to keep all mages in line, _shem_ or not.”

“It’s different,” Jinki says. “We’re not like _shems_. We use magic to preserve our way of life. Humans use it for power.”

Joonmyeon hums. “I can’t say you’re wrong about that.” He pushes the jars and baskets back inside the aravel, then closes the compartment with a tired sigh. "I can feel you fretting behind me, Jinki. Try not to worry too much, alright?”

“Hard not to.”

“I’d offer to make something for your friend, if it would help, but there’s nothing I can make that Jonghyun doesn’t already have.” Joonmyeon offers him a regretful smile. “I’m sorry.”

Not wanting to speak further, Jinki shrugs. Though Joonmyeon’s brow is still pinched with worry, he changes the topic smoothly, always able to sense when Jinki would prefer a distraction to direct comforts with a healer’s intuition. “You’ll be sleeping outside tonight, right? The weather’s nice.”

Jinki nods. Though they have the shelter of the aravels to sleep in, the shift of season from winter to spring has already brought some of the clan out to enjoy the warmer air in their sleep. The open sky will be a comfort to him tonight. His chest already felt much too confined.

♦♦♦

Jinki flexes his hands and stands. His head spins when he rises fully to his feet, forcing him to  grasp the newly-carved bedpost to keep from falling. Despite his exhaustion, he grins at the feeling of the unfinished wood under his fingers. He’d done a good job, one he’s certain will earn him praise.

Once he has his bearings, he stretches out his back, then massages his knees, taking a quick inventory of his condition. His knees are raw from resting on the floor, and his palms are blistered, but he still has the sawdust and wood shavings to sweep.

_After that, I can rest._

He grabs the broom he had set in the corner and gets to work, making sure to search every corner and alcove for traces of his work. Even without the giant open windows of the magister’s new room, he knows how easily remnants can find their way to the strangest of places.

The heavy door at the entrance of the room starts to open just as he begins to clean around the hinges. He jumps back from it with a small yelp and dashes to avoid being crushed, turning around quickly to see who entered as he dusts off his tunic.

The magister nods to him, amused. “Good evening, Jinki.”

“Magister.” Jinki holds the broom tighter and bows, trying not to let his voice crack with his nerves. The man had been nice enough so far, but working so closely with the nobleman who owns him makes him nervous. One slip up, and he could be sold.

“How are you doing?”

“Good,” Jinki says. Best to answer as neutrally as possible, to avoid offense.

The playfully raised eyebrow he receives for his answer says the magister saw right through him. “I imagine you are tired after working hard all day.”

“An enjoyable kind of tiredness, sir.”

He earns a more genuine smile for that. “I should hope so, since this is your chosen craft.” He pushes back his sleeves, crinkling the intricately-woven embroidery of birds into an unrecognizable assortment of color, then gestures to the bedframe. “May I look at your progress?”

Jinki nods. He steps out the way to give the magister a clear path, but the man still passes closely enough for Jinki to feel the brush of his black robes. When the magister runs his fingers along the freshly carved vines in the woodwork, he clutches the broom still in his hands tighter, closing his eyes out of fear of spotting some imperfection he missed. The humid air of the dying afternoon adds to the heaviness of the silence, and his palms are sweating by the time he opens his eyes to the magister’s voice.

“You’ve done a great job with this. I can’t wait to see it fully finished.”

Jinki bows his head low. “Thank you, sir.”

“For the main headboard, I would still like the dragons. If you could do scales, that would be—”

A rumbling growl from Jinki’s stomach interrupts the magisters description. Jinki locks his fingers behind his back and flushes. He’d gotten so absorbed in his work he’d forgotten to eat, again. “My apologies, sir.”

A grin breaks out on the magister’s face. “I don’t suppose you’ve already had your supper?”

Jinki fights the urge to fidget. “I…had some bread while I worked.”

“Just bread, during such a long day?” The magister shakes his head, but wears a playful smile. “How about you stay for some food and wine? You worked hard, and I’m sure I can offer you something better than the leftovers from the servant’s meals.”

Jinki swallows. He wants to leave. Taemin is waiting for him at their usual sunset-watching spot, he’s sure. His hands ache from carving, and his eyes are strained from concentrating at his craft for hours. But to refuse an offer from the magister himself would take a courage he lacks, so he nods and bows politely. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“I already asked my personal servants to bring my meal here, so we can share it. Maker knows they bring me enough for several men.”

Jinki lets his lips quirk at the joke. The way the magister spoke with him, he almost felt he was supposed to react as an equal, but the gulf of power between them made him too nervous to try.

As if sensing his thoughts, the magister frowns and crosses the space between them to pat him on the shoulder. “You don’t need to be so stoic, Jinki. You can relax around me. ”

The touch is meant to be comforting, he knows, but his body still stiffens on instinct at the contact. Only when he forces himself to relax does the magister’s hand leave his shoulder. “I will try.”

“Good. I would hate to have a boring dinner companion.”

As if summoned by the light words, two kitchen slaves enter the room with trays full of food. Jinki’s mouth waters at the sight. The large roasted ham at the center of one is surrounded with bowls of fresh pastries, and chilled fruits spill over the top of the bowl next to a smaller dish of cream.

With a snap of the magister’s fingers, the candles on the table at the corner of the room light. Jinki waits, feeling entirely out of place as the slaves arrange food onto plates set in front of two chairs — one for him, one for the magister, he assumes — and tries not to gape too obviously at the meal in front of him.

The magister still notices. When the slaves leave the room, shutting the door behind them, the magister grins and gestures to the table, delighting in Jinki’s wonder. “Shall we?”

Jinki nods. As the magister moves towards the table, one lessons of his brief training before he’d been put to serve in the dining hall for a party flashes through his mind — no noble should ever seat themselves when there’s a slave around to do it for them  — and Jinki dashes to the table to pull the chair out.

He earns a smile. “So polite! One would think you were trained to work in the house and not out in the workshops.” He sits after a sweeping gather of his robes. “Thank you, Jinki.”

“Only doing as Yeonwoo taught me, sir.” Jinki bows.

He forces himself into the seat left for him. The magister has already begun eating, so he does the same, hoping his manners don’t fail him in dining or conversation. The slave in charge of the kitchens always had kind things to say about the magister, as did the slave in charge of the gardens. He should be fine, so long as he doesn’t hog the treats all to himself or swear aloud.

“Yeonwoo’s taught you well at many things, hasn’t he?” The magister says, posing the question after a few moments of eating in silence. “You’ve achieved quite a bit of skill for your age. He praises you highly. Says you have a drive stronger than any apprentice he’s had — that when you finish early, you add more details to your works rather than laze about.”

Jinki’s stomach flips at the approval. “He’s exaggerating. I just like being useful. And adding carvings doesn’t take away from a piece’s use…it only makes it nicer to look at.”

The magister smiles. “That’s a fine philosophy.”

The strong scent of spiced wine itches Jinki’s nose as he watches the magister pour himself a second glass. He squints at the bottle, trying fruitlessly to read it the Antivan label to learn its contents.

“Would you care for a glass?”

Unable to resist the offer, Jinki nods.

The magister pours one and pushes the drink towards Jinki, then waits, a slight nod indicating he wants Jinki to try it right then. Jinki’s cheeks burn with the knowledge that he’s being watched as he brings the glass to his lips, but manages to push that thought to back of his mind once the first drop of the wine meets his tongue. It’s hard for him to care about being observed when he’s drinking a wine that likely cost more than he did.

The flavor is sweet, sweeter than anything Taemin had managed to pilfer from the kitchens or wheedle out from the serving ladies. Against his better judgement, he downs a third of it in a long drink and sighs with satisfaction.

The magister gives him a friendly smile. “Good, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Jinki agrees. He takes second sip, more eager than the last, and smiles as it brings a warmth to the tips of his fingers. Before he realizes it, he’s finished the glass, and the alcohol has taken the last of his shyness at eating the treats in front of him. He pops one of the grapes into his mouth, expecting the juice inside to be cool, and frowns when he realizes it’s warm.

“I should’ve eaten these while they were still cold,” he mentions aloud.

“Here.” The magister taps the bowl, instantly coating the remaining fruits with a frost to bring them back to their earlier chill.

Jinki’s eyes light up. He quickly reaches in for his favorite kind of berry, scooping it out and savoring the coldness against his fingers and lips before finally biting down. He sighs at the sweetness. “Thank you, sir.”

“You do such fine work, Jinki, you deserve a reward. You’ve barely been working on this bed for a week, and it’s already finer than all the furniture I imported from Antiva,” the magister praises. A conspiratorial grin stretches the thin wrinkles by the crease of his nose. “It’ll be a fine place for me to bring a lover back to.”

Jinki suppresses a laugh. That the magister would bring up such a thing around him — he must have had too much to drink.

The magister’s legs shift in his chair, and he turns his head, eyes darkening when he looks back to Jinki. “Have you ever bedded anyone before?”

The pointed tips of Jinki’s ears burn red hot. He looks at the floor, wishing he could crawl into the small cracks in the stone to avoid the question. Why would the magister think he had? Had someone told him of Taemin’s dirty jokes? Or had he seen the small hands that rested safely on his shoulders each time they’d stolen a kiss in the gardens?

Jinki shakes his head, hoping that serves as an answer. Though he knows the magister cares little for interfering the relationships of his slaves, and slaves aren’t obligated to restrict sex to marriage as nobles are, it still feels like a question he could answer wrong.

The magister licks his lips and leans forward, as if Jinki’s embarrassment were a palpable thing he could taste. “You don’t need to be so shy about the topic.” His eyes shine in the candlelight. “It’s perfectly natural, and I know the kind of jokes that get passed around in the kitchens.”

“I, uh —” Jinki blinks. “I know it is, I just…I suppose I’m too young to think about it.”

“You think so? You’re growing into a man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed…” The magister’s hand rests on Jinki’s knee, too warm, sickeningly so. “I’d be surprised if no one had made you offers yet.”

Jinki laughs, nerves making the sound too loud for the quiet of the room. “Nothing serious,” he says, thinking again of Taemin’s jokes.

“A shame for them, then.”

The hand on his leg moves higher.

Jinki’s attention flicks to the door. Where were the night servants, to take away their dirtied dinner plates and the magister’s day robes?

He wants to leave, but the door is far and his legs are numb and he’s not even sure he’s allowed, after all he’s been given, to just stand and walk out—

His thigh burns as a palm crosses it, and he brings his knees together, suddenly wanting to be impossibly small.

***

A piercing bleat from one of the clan’s halla wakes him the next morning. Sitting up, Jinki shakes out his hair and squints to the center of the camp. The camp is already bustling with the morning’s work. Halla keepers milk the horned animals as a group of older hunters string their bows. He shoots up out of his bedroll and rolls it up to toss it into the nearest open aravel. He hadn’t meant to sleep this far past the sunrise — he intends to return to Taemin.

Before he leaves, he needs to tell the Keeper of his plans. He hurries around camp until he finds her, skidding to a stop feet away to catch his breath.

“Strange to see you up this soon, _da’len._ ” The dimples around her mouth wrinkle when she smiles at him. “You’re not usually one to rise so early in the morning with no hunt planned. What’s on your mind?”

“ _Aneth ara, hahren_.” Jinki flushes as he gives a respectful bow of his head. As much as he’s adapted to clan life, he never seems to be able to turn into an early-riser. “My friend from Tevinter has returned. He’s staying with the human mage in the woods.”

“I remember Taemin,” she says. Her brows etch in disapproval, reminding Jinki of the reason for his leaving. She shakes her head, training her expression into something more neutral after ridding herself of the memory. “What of him?”

“I want to see him as much as I can, before he leaves again.” Jinki swallows. He hopes she won’t look down on him for that. “I was hoping you would grant me permission to do so.”

“You’re welcome to come and go as you please, Jinki. It will be no different than if you were on a long hunt, I think. I’m your Keeper, but not your keeper.” Her eyes twinkle in amusement at her own joke. “We will need more herbs and things from Jonghyun than usual, anyhow, with Jungah’s labor coming closer by the day. Would you mind trading with him for those?”

“Not at all.” Jinki says, relieved at how easily he had been granted permission. “I’d be happy if my personal interests can still be of use to the clan.”

She smiles. _“Dareth shiral,_ then, Jinki. I will let you know of anything we need.”

Jinki returns the farewell with a small thanks and hurries back to where he had stored his bedroll. He doubts the mage will let him stay in the cabin, so he shoves that into his hunting pack along with a tarp to block away rain if needed and as much trail food as he can fit in the rest of the compartments.

With his traveling needs together, he begins his trek back to the mage’s cabin. The path from yesterday is fresh in his mind, leaving too much room for his the thoughts on his conversation with the Keeper to catch up with him. There was nothing to be done about it, but the fact that she hadn’t even offered to help Taemin herself leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He knows that as their leader in following the Dalish ways, it was natural for her to dislike Taemin for being too stubborn to respect them in his short stay with the clan, but it bothered him all the same. Wouldn’t it be better to care for one of their own — Dalish or not — than to leave him in the hands of a _shem_?

Against his will, his heart races as he approaches the clearing again. He had hoped the time away from the mage would relax him, but it had only given him more time to consider all the reasons he had to distrust his willingness to help Taemin. The fact that he had apparently bedded Taemin at some point or another only made him more suspicious. Joonmyeon and Taemin’s assurance that Jonghyun has good intentions is the only reason he manages to keep his hands away from his knife when he knocks on the door.

Jonghyun opens it with a stilted smile. Over his shoulder, Jinki can see Taemin resting on his side in the small bed, a book on Ferelden to his nose as he blocks out the world. The cot Taemin had told him to set up the night before rests at the footboard with a deceptive innocence that makes Jinki grimace.

“Come to visit?” Jonghyun asks, voice strained with poorly-hidden fear as he forces a smile. “Or did you want to trade again? I haven’t had time to make any more potions since last time, I’m afraid, my herbs are still—”

“Just visiting Taemin,” Jinki interrupts, stepping past the mage with no further introduction. The less he’s forced to look at the _shem_ the better.

The sound of his boots against the cabin floor draws Taemin out of his light daze. Looking up, he blinks widely, smile growing as he pushes the book aside. “Didn’t realize it was you at the door — I hadn’t thought you’d be back so soon.”

“Of course I’d be back soon, I haven’t seen you in years,” Jinki says. He takes a seat at the foot of the bed as Taemin raises himself up. The motion comes easier than it did yesterday, but there’s still a heaviness to the movement that makes Jinki reach over to help him. “Careful, don’t strain yourself—”

“I can manage this much, Jinki. My fever finally broke late last night.“ Taemin gives him a crooked grin. “Might come back, but I should enjoy the freedom of sitting up while I can.”

Jinki narrows his eyes. “You’re certain it’s gone? You looked…unwell yesterday.”

“Yes, I’m certain.” Taemin rolls his eyes and pulls back his long hair to reveal his forehead. “You can feel the difference yourself.”

“Hm.” Pursing his lips, Jinki pulls the glove from his right hand and presses the back of his hand to Taemin’s cheeks, then moves up to his brow, only stopping once he’s ensured every inch of his face is no longer feverish. With a sigh, he pushes a stray piece of Taemin’s hair back behind his ears. The familiar texture of the blond strands between his fingers is more comforting than his words had been. He missed Taemin more than he realized.

The sudden clearing of a throat behind Jinki makes his ears twitch. He startles, looking quickly over his shoulder to see Jonghyun at the still-open door.

He’d forgotten about the mage again.

“I’ll, um—” The mage tugs at the loose waist of his robes, one foot already outside. He glances at Jinki first, then falters, settling his gaze on Taemin instead.  “I assume you both probably want time to catch up properly, so I’ll do my gardening. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything. I’ll be just outside the window.”

“Thanks, Jonghyun.” Taemin smiles. The genuineness of it makes Jinki’s stomach churn, and he makes sure to fully turn away from the mage before the door is even closed.

“You could have at least said hello to him when you got here,” Taemin chastises him in low Tevene, but scoots closer and grins, unable to hide his excitement at Jinki’s arrival. When Jinki shrugs, he pushes aside the book that had been in his lap and shakes his head. “I won’t bug you about your manners now, though — we have too much to talk about, and I really didn’t think I’d see you for a while.”

“Of course I came back quickly,” Jinki says. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you. If I hadn’t had to bring those things back to my clan, I wouldn’t have even left.”

“I’m sure.” Taemin reaches down to squeeze the sides of his knee until Jinki jerks away. “Prancing around in the woods barefoot and singing to the moon must get boring after a while.”

Jinki smiles. Anyone else, and he’d chew them out for knowing so little of Dalish life, but he knows Taemin too well to take the comments personally. Taemin had always probed for people’s feelings by testing reactions to avoid asking questions directly. “I like the routine of clan life, really. Learning the old ways of the People, keeping them alive, and just…living as we are, without having to deal with any _shem_. It feels like a real family and a real home.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Taemin says, a small smile making it obvious he’s glad it’s not his life. He reaches out, touching Jinki’s cheek where the dark line of his tattoo cut across his face. The calloused pad of his thumb prickles as it drags across Jinki’s skin. The back of Jinki’s neck warms as he feels blood rush to his head. He hasn’t allowed anyone to touch him for anything but healing in years.

“You know, I almost didn’t recognize you at first with these markings you have now. I wasn’t sure you’d get them,” Taemin says, punctuating his statement with a pokes at the line across Jinki’s forehead.

Jinki’s throat is dry when Taemin’s hand finally retreats, and it takes him a moment to speak. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I wasn’t sure they’d let you have the face tattoos, since you weren’t born to their clan…”

“I earned them, just as those born to the clan do.” Jinki rubs his cheek where Taemin had touched it to rid his skin of the the tingling left behind after the touch. “Had to kill a deer on my own for it, which took me a year to do, but…I managed, after months of training with the bow.”

“You’re a hunter?” Taemin frowns, confused. “I thought there was some…Creator for crafts and things. I assumed you’d go with that tattoo, since that’s what you’ve always loved.”

“There is a Creator for crafts,” Jinki says, clipping his answer short. He isn’t sure if he wants to tell Taemin the truth of why he had become a hunter — that the head craftswoman thought his work was too _shem_ -like for the clan, and that his crafts might be forever corrupted by his training in Tevinter. Though Taemin sounded nonjudgmental of his clan so far, he remembers the bitterness Taemin had towards the members when he first left.

When the silence drags on too long, Taemin rubs the back of his neck. “…I guess I can see why you might find hunting better. I imagine shooting a bow is enjoyable, once you’re good at it.”

“Yes, it is,” Jinki agrees, going along with that despite the fact it was only a half-truth. At least Taemin trying to guess his reasons meant he didn’t have to provide the real explanation. “I wanted to do what was best for my new home, and you can never have too many hunters.”

“I can see how that would be true,” Taemin says with a smart grin. “There’s no such thing as too much meat.”

Jinki laughs, chest already lighter now that the conversation has moved on. “What about you, though? How’ve your travels been?”

“Incredible.” Taemin’s eyes light up at the word travel. “I’ve visited so many places. Sometimes it’s wonderful, sometimes it’s shit…but I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

“How far have you gone?”

“I’ve seen the Amaranthine Ocean — it’s gorgeous. After I left Jonghyun, I went north to Antiva for the winter, then hung around Rivain for a bit. Made maps of the city there and sold them to a bunch of foreigners that were vacationing in their summer homes, then drafted some up for the government officials. Made quite a name for myself pretty fast — not many humans are willing to venture near the elven slums and map those streets.” Taemin scrunches his nose. “Here, they’re actually a bit afraid of elves, since they think we’re dirty and thieving and diseased and all that. They’d never admit that, though.”

“Of course not,” Jinki scoffs, unable to resist a glance at the window when he thinks of the mage outside. Maybe he would have feared Jinki even without the veiled threat.

He shakes the thought away. “But you managed to sell maps to them still?”

“Plenty, yeah.” Taemin shrugs. “Not sure I got the fairest price for them, but I’ve made a good amount of coin.”

“But you couldn’t afford a healer? Surely someone could overlook you being an elf, if you have enough money?”

“I made enough to live, but not enough to buy people out of their prejudices. It’d take all the gold of Thedas to fix that.” Taemin laughs. “Besides, most mages are too busy with the war going on now. I sold more than a few maps to some that were trying to escape Rivain before the templars slaughtered them.”

A lump forms in Jinki’s throat at the thought of Taemin so close to the long war’s fighting between the mages and their former jailers. The mage leaders had voted to leave the templar-controlled Circles where they had been forced to live away from their families and the rest of society. Since then, fighting had broken out between the two groups, and many civilians had been caught in the battles that spanned the continent. Taemin could have died, and he would have never found out. “You weren’t in danger with the fighting going on, were you?”

“As much as anyone else was,” Taemin says. “But no, I made sure to stay clear of the fighting when I started traveling south again. I even took a ship around from Rivain to Wycome, to avoid traveling over land…and I caught whatever damn illness this is on the way there.” He gives a heavy sigh. ”Thank the Maker I remembered Jonghyun lived nearby. I would’ve died, otherwise…and I probably wouldn’t have made it here if we hadn’t had such an easy winter.”

Without thinking, Jinki reaches for Taemin’s hand and clutches it tight. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too. Death from illness would make for an ugly corpse, wouldn’t it?”

Jinki laughs. “You could never be ugly.”

“You’re only saying that, I know.” Taemin sighs. “I’m sure I look like shit right now, since it’s been far too long since I’ve had a bath.”

“And here I thought it was the _shem_ that made the cabin stink,” Jinki teases. “Do you need me to help you bathe?”

“No, it’s alright.” Taemin waves him off. “I’m not up for it now, and Jonghyun can —” he cuts himself off, mouth hanging open when he realizes his mistake. His ears twitch as he starts over. “He can get the bath ready, when I need it.”

Jinki narrows his eyes. “You’re comfortable letting him help you?”

Taemin’s eyes dart to the window, checking to see if Jonghyun is near. Though the window is empty, he still lowers his voice when he protests, “No, I wasn’t saying that, I just mean—”

“I know, Taemin.” Jinki interrupts. “There’s no point in hiding it.”

“You know?” Taemin’s lips thin as he tries to hide his nervousness. “What do you mean?”

“That you’ve bedded him. You were naked the last time I visited, and there was only one bed,” Jinki says. He’s not going to mention the eavesdropping.

“…Ah. I’d hoped you just thought that was because of my fever.” Taemin slides away to sink deeper under the covers. He doesn’t seem embarrassed at being caught — just anxious. “Are you angry with me for it?”

Jinki blinks, caught off guard by the question. His hatred is reserved for the mage bastard. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I slept with a human? A human mage? And you hate them?”

“I do,” Jinki admits. “He took advantage of you, since you didn’t have anywhere else to go after you left the clan, and now you’re sick, and he’s going to do it again. I feel like you bedding him is the price of you staying here.”

“No, it’s not like that.” When Jinki scoffs, Taemin opens his mouth to respond, but closes it quickly. He sucks in a harsh breath as he bites back whatever had been on his tongue. “I promise, it really isn’t. He’s helping me because we’re friends. He doesn’t have any reward or price in mind.”

“No _shem_ would do that for an elf.”

“He would do that— _is_ doing that,“ Taemin corrects. “But it doesn’t matter, really. I haven’t slept with him at all since I got here. All of that was years ago, and it didn’t mean anything serious.”

Jinki scowls down at the sheets. He’s isn’t sure if the fact that it was meaningless made it better or worse that Taemin would hop so willingly into a _shem_ mage’s bed. It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal, but it leaves the same sting in his chest as Taemin leaving the clan did.

“I can tell you’re bothered.” Taemin’s words force him to look up. Taemin’s concern has disappeared, mouth hardened into a line of stubborn defiance. “Are you going to fight with me about it?”

“I suppose not.” Jinki sighs. He knows better than to try, especially after last time. Taemin wants what he wants, and it would be pointless to argue further.

“Thank you.” Taemin lets out the breath he’d been holding and slumps back against the bed. “We’re both too stubborn, and I don’t have the energy.”

“I’m not that stubborn,” Jinki protests, eager to pick up the banter again. It would take his mind off the image of Taemin kissing the mage.

“At least my travels have made me a bit flexible. You’re rooted as a stump with your ancient traditions and nonsense—”

The door swings open.

“Sorry.” Jonghyun says when he sees Taemin’s wide-eyed expression. He wilts when he sees Jinki still sitting on the bed. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I hope I’m not back too soon? I realized Taemin hasn’t had anything to drink yet today.”

“You’re fine,” Taemin answers with an easy grin. Jinki doesn’t bother to speak, but looks at Jonghyun with his best blank expression. He knows that without a smile he looks angry, and that should be enough to voice his opinion on Jonghyun’s return.

If Jonghyun notices, he doesn’t show it. The pail in Jonghyun’s hands is too heavy for him to hold onto for long, so he lumbers through the cabin and heaves it onto the counter.

“I brought back fresh water for all of us,” Jonghyun says quickly, still catching his breath. He scoops water into a small and battered teapot he pulls from a nearby shelf, then takes a quick drink from the ladle himself. “Taemin needs to stay hydrated as he recovers.”

Taemin groans. “You aren’t going to make me drink half the pail again, are you? I’m tired of having to piss so much.”

“No, but you at least need your tea,” Jonghyun says, pressing his hands to the teapot. Before Jinki can blink, he murmurs a word and his hands glow, carving light into the dents of the teapot’s iron surface.

Jinki flinches when a line of steam suddenly shoots into the air and the teapot lets out a screeching whistle. His heart races, vision narrowing down to a pinpoint in a blink. The cabin feels smaller, and even across the room, the mage seems too close.

Jinki grits his teeth, fighting the urge to leave his seat on the bed so he can put more distance between himself and the mage.

_Fucking magic._

Taemin glances at him and touches his shoulder briefly, a quiet reassurance. He knows well that Jinki only tolerates magic when he’s warned of it first. Too bad he was busy trying to hide the fact they had fucked to warn Jonghyun of that.

To Jinki’s relief, he at least says nothing, even when Jonghyun returns to pass Taemin his cup. The way Taemin takes the pungent elfroot tea without even a look or a word reminds Jinki how familiar he is with the mage, and he glowers deeper when he realizes the man has said his name.

“Um, Jinki,” Jonghyun says his name hesitantly, as it were something he needed permission for in itself. “Would you like a drink as well?”

“No.” Jinki says, then noticing Taemin’s glare, adds a stiff, “Thank you.”

“Of course. I try to be a good host, since I don’t get visitors often.” A strained laugh escapes from his forced smile when he turns to pour his own tea. “Just let me know if you want anything.”

A breeze through the window rustles the pages of an open book on the top of a stack by the bed just as Jonghyun returns to sit with them. Other than the murmured reminder from Jonghyun for Taemin to finish his tea and the hissed complaints about its bitterness, the room is quiet. No one seems to know what to discuss, with all three of them in the same room and Taemin busy downing the bitter liquid. Jinki hasn’t felt a silence this uncomfortable in years.

Jonghyun sips at his own drink. He looks at Jinki over the glass until he has his attention, eyes wide like a halla ready to run when he finally gets it. “If you’d like to stay the night, I can set up a third cot for you.”

He can see Taemin smile at the offer out the corner of his eye. He knows it’s not just because he might be staying, but also because Jonghyun was being nice — as if that would somehow get him to not hate the mage.

He’d brought his bedroll to stay outside the cabin, but a cot would be preferable to sleeping in the open air with no one on watch. And his presence in the cabin would certainly prevent anything from happening between Taemin and Jonghyun.

“I’ll stay,” Jinki says, not bothering with a thanks. Jonghyun would have to earn that this time.

***

“Jinki?” Taemin blinks at him slowly in the dark.  “Where’ve you been?”

“Kitchens,” Jinki lies. He’s so numb out of his body he could almost believe himself. He stares at his bedroll, somehow unable to force his way through the motion of climbing inside. Though the room is fuzzy around him, balance and senses far from his grasp, he’s not sure he wants to lie down ever again. There’s no one but Taemin and the other slaves in the room, but he feels like he needs to be ready — for what, he doesn’t know, but he needs to be somewhere and in some position that makes it easy to get up and run, though he’s not sure his legs have the strength for any of that now.

When Jinki continues to only sit, Taemin props himself up, lips pursing with concern. “…You feeling alright?”

“Just a bit unwell,” Jinki answers without looking at him.

Taemin frowns and reaches for him. “You’ll feel better if you rest.”

His hand comes to Jinki’s shoulder to force him down to the bedroll, and Jinki jerks his body away, hating himself for it when the sudden movement makes Taemin startle.

“Sorry,” he says. Taemin should feel safe for him — _is_ safe — but he feels like one wrong touch could give away what he’s used for now.  Jinki swallows to try and sooth the scratchiness of his throat. “I’m afraid I’ll have to get up and get sick. I drank a lot.”

That’s not quite a lie — he had drank as much wine as he could manage, because it made things easier.

“Alright. I’ll let you be.” Taemin eyes him skeptically, but eventually lays back down with an annoyed huff. “Just share with me next time you swipe some alcohol, okay? You drink too much on your own.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jinki hopes the strange quirk of his lips can be read as a smile in the dark. “Just try not to wake me up early tomorrow. I’ll have an awful hangover.”

With a small laugh, Taemin tugs up his bedding and rolls onto his other side. “As if anyone could wake you up early.”

Jinki manages to echo the sound when he slips into his bed, and keeps his discomfort to only a noiseless wince when the forming bruise on his hip presses against his bedroll. The fact that he has to turn his back to Taemin to avoid aggravating the soreness only makes it harder to fall asleep. His eyes only close after the first light peaks through the small window of the slave quarters.

♦♦♦

After is always worse. Having to listen to the magister’s breathing, satisfied and slow, while his own breathing feels distant and foreign in his own lungs.

He cleans himself up numbly before tugging up the sheets to cover him up to his neck. The cool silk provides a bit of comfort as he rolls onto his side, forcing himself to focus so he can have the familiar comfort of the bookshelf across the room. He’d already memorized the titles months ago, but checking to see if the order of them has been changed gives him something to do while he waits for the magister to fall asleep.

Tonight, he isn’t so lucky.

The magister’s hand wraps over his bare shoulder, encouraging him to turn him back over to the center of the bed. Jinki blinks, pretending to be half-asleep even as his grip on the sheets tightens. He’d tried to make the night last long enough there would be no time for anything but sleep, so he could slip away to the slave’s quarters, but it hadn’t worked.

“Jinki…I’ve been thinking lately.” The magister’s gaze is low, almost guilty, and Jinki’s gut pinches. He recognizes the look — has memorized it in some twisted and useless survival instinct, in the part of him that still wants to pretend he has choice whether or not to agree — and he knows it never bodes well for him. “I’ve been falling behind some of the younger magisters. I’ve gotten too preoccupied with other things…laws, and ethics, and politics, to focus on developing my magical abilities.”

Jinki’s chest tightens. He knows little of magic, but he already knows where the magister’s words are leading, from the whispers of slaves with knife-made, perfectly straight scars in the halls. Magisters always did blood magic. Those that attempted not to use it could only keep their prestige for so long, and all gave in eventually — its power is too great to avoid it on principle.

The veins in his wrist seem too visible now, and he tucks his hands under the sheets before he attempts to meet the magister’s eyes. His voice sounds hollow and dry as he forces out a compliment and what he hopes is a reverent smile. “I’ve always thought you seemed so powerful.”

That earns him a laugh. “Yes, well…I suppose I would seem like that to you, considering you weren’t born with a gift for magic.” Long fingers card through Jinki’s hair, and he freezes at the gentle touch. The magister’s voice dips, and he speaks slowly, as if Jinki were a difficult child and not the elf he’d been taking to bed for two years. “…Unfortunately, as magisters, we have to be more powerful than the average mage. Our inborn gifts sometimes aren’t enough. I know I said I never would, but you understand I need to, don’t you?” he sighs. “If I want to keep my position…it’s something I need to do.”

Jinki closes his eyes and nods.

“I was hoping I could use you.”

Panic rises in Jinki’s chest.

He thinks of Changsun in the kitchens and Soonkyu in the gardens — the precise scars running up their forearms and under the push-backed sleeves of their shirts. More than the scars, he remembers Changsun’s words, that the cutting had hurt but the burn of the magic in his blood was worse. He barely registers that the magister is still speaking as his mind races, trying to come up with some way out of it.

“The other slaves already know I see you alone. And from what I’ve heard, you’re too modest to undress around them. I don’t want anyone knowing I’ve done this. If I had a choice, I—”

“I’ll scar,” Jinki interrupts. The magister blinks at him, and Jinki licks his lips, willing his voice steady so he doesn’t sound like he’s bargaining. All the praise the magister had given him for his body has to be worth something. He hates that he’s trying to bargain with the smooth skin the magister loves — but his fear of blood magic is too great for him not to try and turn it to his advantage. “I scar very easily. Would you — would you really want me to have marks like that?”

The magister pulls back, moving the sheets with him so his eyes can travel down Jinki fully. His brows knit together with thought. “You make a good point. I’d hate to mar your beauty.” he grins wickedly and waves a hand. “I’ll just have to find another way.”

Jinki’s breath comes back to him. He hates the gratitude he feels, but can’t help it when a small thanks leaves his lips. “Thank you.”

***

Hazy sunshine in the pattern of leaves illuminates the border of trees along the clearing. Jinki recognizes Jonghyun’s cabin from the half-finished carving on the door and the trim garden. A new path of white stone snakes to the door, and Jinki follows it. Each step seems colder than the last under his bare feet.

Moonlight falls as the only light into the dark cabin. The mattress no longer rests on Jonghyun’s simple wooden frame. Shadows cut through the sharp Tevinter patterns of the ornate headboard that small hands — Taemin’s hands — grip at with white knuckles. Jinki can feel the splinters under his palms.

He steps forward, trying to see Taemin, and sees nothing but black robes and the stiff, repetitive movements of someone taking their pleasure from the boy beneath him.

Rage burns in his throat when the robes fall back to reveal tousled brown hair. He reaches for the dagger at his thigh, but finds nothing but fabric. Stepping back, he trips on the threshold of the door, numbness seizing in his throat just as he tries to make a sound.

Somehow, he knows the knife is on the bed. The pungent scent of blood hits his nose before he can find his balance, and the deep red glow of blood magic shifts the light in the room, warping his view of small cottage before it concentrates and flows, water-like, through the ridges of the headboard and over Taemin’s hands and into his skin.

The next sound Taemin lets out is a moan.

He falls back again.

“Jinki!” A hand pushes at his shoulder. “Jinki, _da’len_ , wake up, you’re shaking like—”

His eyes snap open. He lashes at the figure by his side until he hears the sharp swear of _fenedhis!_ from a familiar voice, then stops, blinking wildly as his chest heaves and his lungs burn for more air.

Joonmyeon squints at him through the arms raised defensively over his face. “Are you awake now? You know it’s me, _da’len_?”

“Yeah,” Jinki breathes. He pushes back the sweat-soaked blankets covering his chest, then pulls them back when he realizes his teeth are chattering. Reaching out, he pats Joonmyeon’s bedroll in apology. “Sorry for hitting you.”

“It’s fine.” Joonmyeon rubs at the freshly-forming bruise on his arm with a grimace. “Are you alright, though? You haven’t had a nightmare for a while now…I’d hoped you were done with them.”

Jinki stares down at his hands. Though he knows where he is now, Joonmyeon’s voice and the quiet night-noises of the forest sound so distant. “So did I.”

“I can make you something to help with your sleep, if you want,” Joonmyeon offers. “It’ll just take a moment. I know you tend to have nightmares in rows.”

“No, I don’t want it,” Jinki says. Joonmyeon’s mixtures were effective at keeping his nightmares away only because they forced him into a deeper sleep than was natural. He couldn’t bring himself to dull his senses like that, not when he has to see Taemin as soon as possible. “I’ll be visiting Taemin tomorrow.”

“Again?”

“I don’t trust that _shem,_ ” Jinki snarls.

A flash of realization crosses Joonmyeon’s eyes before his brows furrow with a concern that approaches pity. “Jinki…”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it.”

Jinki stands to gather his things, thoughts racing from his dream back to the last time he had been inside the cabin. He remembers how Taemin looked that last visit — somehow worse than the time before that. Though he knew illness could come in cycles, he couldn’t shake the feeling something deeper was wrong.

 

Why else would Taemin stay in one place for so long, and not even venture out of the confining cabin? Something unnatural had changed him. And considering the _shem_ is an apostate, he could bet on it being blood magic. It would certainly explain why the mage had escaped the Circle and confined himself to a hidden cabin in the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

Jinki has a plan to confront Jonghyun. In his last few visits, he had fallen into helping Jonghyun with his herb gardening out of a desire to help Taemin. Now he steps outside to let Taemin sleep with the intent to get the mage alone. The images from his dream are fresh on his mind, and they make it hard for Jinki to keep his hands away from his knife when Jonghyun turns his back to climb over the short fence.

“I need to break this witherstalk down for some teas I’m making,” Jonghyun says, as if Jinki cared for his craft. “Taemin’s fever is gone, and most of his symptoms have disappeared, but he’s still weak. The witherstalk will help keep him from falling sick to something else while he recovers — illnesses like these are often followed closely by others, so I think it’s best to take a preventative measure on top of everything else.”

Jinki murmurs an acknowledgment and crouches to begin harvesting the plant. Of course Taemin was still weak — Jonghyun was probably keeping him just well enough to be enjoyable, but not enough to return to his travels.

He fixes a glare on the mage when Jonghyun joins him and waits for him to get absorbed in the repetitive work in the hopes that would bring his defenses down and loosen his lips. But the basket isn’t even half full with the witherstalk before he gets sick of the silence and blurts out an observation. “Taemin doesn’t seem much better than when I saw him a few days ago.”

“Healing takes time,” Jonghyun says. “The sickness Taemin had nearly killed him.”

“I can’t imagine it takes over a month,” Jinki murmurs. He’d meant to dig for information, but the accusation slips between his words, and he can’t hide the anger in his hands as he snaps away another stem of the witherstalk.  When he hears Jonghyun’s hands stop in their work, he knows the implication had been clear enough.

Jonghyun straightens his back from where he had been plucking herbs and turns to him slowly. “Are you suggesting I’m keeping him sick? On purpose?”

Jinki stands. “You are an apostate.”

“And?”

“I assume you get lonely out here. Wouldn’t keeping him sick be the best way to keep him with you?” Jinki says. His throat feels raw as he lays his suspicions out. “You could even use blood magic to make him want to stay, if he starts feeling too well—”

“I haven’t done anything to him!” Jonghyun’s snaps, loudly enough that Jinki steps back. “I’m no maleficar. I became an apostate because I wanted to be free. Not because I wanted to do blood magic, or summon demons, or whatever damn invented evil you can come up with.”

Jinki scoffs. “Of course you’d say that. But can you prove that you’re not manipulating him? Even if you are trying to nurse him back to health, it’s probably only so he’ll have more power to give you when you decide to try blood magic. Why else would some _shem_ abomination care about a sick elf?”

Jonghyun flushes hotly, his entire neck turning red with anger. It gives Jinki satisfaction until he hears the thud of Taemin’s feet across the floor, followed by the quick snap of the door swinging open.

Taemin looks between them, brows tense. “What’s going on?”

“He’s accusing me of blood magic,” Jonghyun says.

Jinki raises his chin stubbornly, addressing Taemin even as he stares Jonghyun down. “I’ve never seen you this ill before, and you’re young enough to fight it off. I’m worried you’re not healing well because of him.”

“I see.” Taemin’s expression darkens when his focus rests on Jinki, and his next words come out like ice. “Please give me a moment, Jonghyun. I need to speak with my old friend.”

When Jonghyun nods and turns back into the cabin, Jinki swallows, the back of his neck prickling under Taemin’s stare. That icy tone only came from Taemin when he was angry past the point of showing it, and he never knows what to expect then.

“He’s telling the truth, isn’t he?” Taemin scowls and crosses his arms. “You accused him of blood magic. Jonghyun, of all people. The man who’s been caring for me for months.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” Jinki says stubbornly, though his determination is wilting under Taemin’s glare. “I’ve never known you to fall ill easily, let alone recover so slowly. It’s taking too long. Something unnatural is happening. Maybe he’s making you sick, maybe he’s magicking you into wanting to stay, but something is wrong…and even if he’s not already doing something, the second he wants more power, I bet he’ll be asking to use your blood.”

“Don’t you dare suggest he’d do that,” Taemin growls. “You have no fucking right. Not after what I’ve been through. He’s nothing like that bastard magister.”

The anger in Taemin’s eyes makes him step back on instinct. He takes a moment to collect himself, unable to help his gaze from flicking to the scars across Taemin’s chest as he racks his mind for a better way to word his concern. Only once he’s certain he won’t mangle his words does he lick his lips and speak. “You have to understand why I’m worried, at least. He’s a mage, Taemin — a _shem_ mage.”

“And he’s never had any interest in blood magic, just like most mages outside of Tevinter,” Taemin counters. “We’re not there anymore…mages are different here. And Jonghyun wouldn’t do that to me. I know it. He doesn’t care about power. And if I ever hear you even suggesting that he might be using me again, I won’t let you visit any longer.”

Jinki bristles, stubbornness making him defiant. “You don’t mean that.”

“I mean it completely.” Taemin says. “I have every reason to trust Jonghyun. He’s taken care of me for nothing in return, two times now — the first when your clan turned me out alone before I could even hunt for a nug.”

Jinki clenches his fist and looks down, ashamed. He knows Taemin is right — he realized the truth of how little Taemin had been ready to be alone months after his departure. He had just refused to let himself think about it at the time. It had been easier to see Taemin leaving as a choice.

“I’m sorry,” Jinki says.

Taemin pushes back his hair with a sigh. “I know. I don’t resent you for what the clan did, or for you staying, when it’s obviously what you wanted. We were so young back then, and so lost…” He forces a tight smile. “I’d just like you to show a little kindness for the man who’s saved my life twice over. Take my word for it that he’s good — or at least, stop harassing him with accusations of blood magic.”

“I’ll try.”

Taemin leans back against the door frame. His face is pale, and Jinki mentally kicks himself for not noticing sooner. “You tire me out, Jinki…I need to rest again. These past few days have been rough.”

“I’ll get you in bed.” Jinki lifts Taemin’s arm around his shoulders. He makes their way back to the cabin, then pushes the door open with his hip and guides Taemin towards the bed. Jonghyun steps out of the way for them and moves to the opposite end of the room, then outside after Jinki helps Taemin under the covers.

“Be nice to him, alright?” Taemin murmurs in Tevene. “He’s not bad, I promise.”

“If you say so.”

With a tired sigh, Taemin rolls away from him and pulls the covers up. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for now.”

Jinki waits by the bed until he hears Taemin’s breathing even out, then rubs at his temples. He doesn’t want to stay and wait for Taemin to wake up. The clan had camped closer to Jonghyun’s cabin now, and there would be no point in staying here with only the angry mage as company when he could return with a short walk.

After gathering the few items he’d brought with, Jinki steps outside. Jonghyun rests on the bench beside the door. He lifts his head from his hands and looks to Jinki. “Is he asleep?”

“Yes,” Jinki answers.

“That’s good. He needs the rest,” Jonghyun says. He looks as if he wants to add something more, but stays quiet, only chewing on his lip and glancing back down at his hands. Jinki grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to wait to hear whatever the mage has to say, but Taemin’s plea for him to be kind keeps him from rushing to the woods to avoid whatever Jonghyun wished to share. Suppressing an irritated sigh, Jinki finds a spot to lean against the cabin. He can spare a minute, for Taemin’s sake.

Another long moment passes before Jonghyun inhales sharply, finally seeming to find the words. “I don’t like to admit this, usually. But what any talented Circle mage could do in a day, takes me weeks. If Taemin’s healing is slow, it’s not because I’m hindering him. It’s because I’m weak.”

Jinki blinks at Jonghyun, unable to hide his shock.

He doesn’t know what he expected the mage to say  — maybe a more muted expression of their earlier argument, or a demand for an apology — but an admission of weakness was the last of it. He’d never heard of a mage describe themselves as weak.

He chews his lip as he considers Jonghyun’s words. He isn’t sure if he should pry so soon after their fight, but the confession leaves him with question he can’t help but ask. “If you acknowledge your weakness, why haven’t you taken Taemin to my clan? He’s well enough to travel for a short while, and we’ve gotten closer to your cabin the past few months…”

“Taemin doesn’t want to go back to them. He’s told you that, hasn’t he?”

Jinki bristles at the truth in the words, and the sharpness behind them. Jonghyun isn’t sparing any kindness for him now.

“I didn’t mean to say it’s your fault. I haven’t wanted to push it either,” Jinki says. “I just hoped you might be able to influence him, since he listens well to you.”

Jonghyun’s expression softens. “I suggested it to him, the first time he seemed to have a bit more energy. And the next time, too. He told me if I brought it up again, he’d wander out when I’m sleeping and find a wolf family to care for him.”

Despite himself, Jinki laughs. “That…certainly sounds like him.”

“He’s stubborn, that’s for sure,” Jonghyun says. His lips pulls into a crooked and hesitant smile.  “I suppose it makes sense that quality of his hasn’t changed since you last saw him.”

Jinki nods in agreement, head feeling too heavy on his shoulders. The argument had drained him more than he expected. He wants nothing more than to be back at camp and nestled in his bedroll. He pushes himself away from the cabin. “I’m going to give Taemin some space for a few days.”

Jonghyun stares up at him, apparently as surprised by the statement as Jinki had been by his admission of weakness.

“Let him know I’ll be back,” Jinki adds.

Jonghyun shakes off his daze.  “Yes, of course. I’ll tell him the moment he wakes up.” He pauses, once more hesitating over his words. “Have a safe journey back.”

♦♦♦

He doesn’t know how long the blood magic ritual took, or if the deep cuts across Taemin’s skin were done all at once or dragged out. He only knows that Taemin had disappeared for two whole days, and that the magister had been holed up in his study for a day longer than that. When he’d changed Taemin’s bandages, the cleans cuts over Taemin’s upper arms and legs had seemed more fresh than those over the center of Taemin’s chest, though it had been hard to tell when he could barely stomach looking at the wounds.

The magister had been kind enough to relieve Taemin of his garden duties for two months and give him a separate room after, and though Jinki knew the wounds would heal faster than that, he still refused to see that as a mercy. He’s spent every night at Taemin’s bedside since, even though that meant having only the thinnest bedroll on the cold stone floor.

It’s deep in the evening when Taemin slings an arm over the side of the bed, fingertips brushing Jinki’s ear when he murmurs to him. “Jinki? Are you awake?”

“I’m here.”

“Do you still think about escaping?”

The question catches him off guard. The fingertips of Taemin’s hanging hand trail over his forehead through his hair when he turns to face the ceiling. He shivers at the unwanted memory of a ring-laden hand that comes with the sensation, but forces himself not to pull away. Taemin needs him now.

“I still do, yeah.”

“I used to dream of visiting other places,” Taemin says. It’s not quite a response, but Jinki holds onto the words and prays for more, because it’s the most Taemin has said in days.

”Not because my life was bad here. I liked working in the gardens. The magister feeds us well. But I wanted to see an ocean, or one of the southern chantries, or the mountains. It was a fun thing to think about with you, and joke about. But now…” he trails off. “Now I know I want to get out of Tevinter.”

Jinki’s stomach swoops. The sheets on the bed above him shift, and Taemin looks down at him over the side of the mattress. Even in the dark, Jinki can see that the blurry stare of days ago is now a steely determination. “You think it’s possible to find a way out?”

On instinct, Jinki glances around to make sure they’re alone before answering. “When I asked you before, it was more hope than substance. I didn’t have a plan. But I know slaves have done it in the past, so it has to be possible.”

“We’ll find one.” Taemin sits up straighter, gritting his teeth as the motion pulls the wounds on his chest. “I can use the maps I’ve made of the magister’s estate and gardens to find the best route out.”

“Even if we leave the magister, we have to find our way out of Tevinter.”

“Bring me books with maps of Tevinter and the Free Marches, then. There’s some in the magister’s rooms, aren’t there?”

“…I think so,” Jinki says, not wanting to sound overly sure. He doesn’t want to say that he had memorized the titles, read them in his head over and over the last time because they were the only thing in his vision that didn’t make him sick.

“Do you think you can get some?”

Jinki closes his eyes to avoid looking at Taemin. He knows what he’d have to do if he went in there. He’d managed to avoid it since Taemin was used for whatever cursed blood magic the magister did, and the magister had kept his distance since finding out him and Taemin were friends.

Going back to his rooms would be an invitation he doesn’t want to give. But for Taemin…

One more time, Jinki tells himself. One more time, and we can make a plan to be out. We can be free of this damned place, and Taemin will never have to go through this again.

“I can get some,” Jinki says. His fists clench in his meager sheets. “Just give me a few days to make sure I get everything we need.”

♦♦♦

A few hours after the setting of the sun, the animals penned in the small farmhouse at the outskirts of the town have quieted for the night. All Jinki hears is his own breath as he waits for the guard to reach the other end of the path and the rustle of trees behind him from where he told Taemin to wait. With one last look to the patrolling guard, he climbs over the yard’s fence and moves quickly to the nearest cabin, weaving between houses and fences to stay out of the guard’s line of sight until he reaches his goal. He’d scoped out the butcher of the village earlier in the day, and his hunger makes it all too easy to put aside his fear of being caught.

He stops at the shed he had seen the man deposit meat into, circling around it till he finds the door.  After one last glance around the area, he tests the handle, praying he doesn’t have to try the makeshift lockpick he’d fashioned from scrap metal on the road.

The handle comes down easy, and the door swings open with only a slight push.

“Thank the Maker,” he murmurs, and steps inside.

The door closes behind him, leaving him in the dark with the scent of flesh and blood burning at his nostrils. A pile of entrails yet to be disposed rests in the corner, and Jinki fights the urge to heave, knowing all that would come up from his stomach is bile. Hiding his nose in the crook of his elbow, he gropes blindly forward, stumbling around until he finds a few hares hanging from hooks on the furthermost wall.

He piles what he can carry into his arms and slips outside of the shed, heart racing as he looks around him to find where the guard had moved. He can’t find him, but he sees Taemin waving for him to hurry at the edge of the woods. He swallows his nerves and dashes for him, handing off half of the hares before diving together into the thickest foliage they can find.

“Do you think we were spotted?” Jinki murmurs, words coming out louder than he’d like as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t think so,” Taemin says. “The guard seemed concerned with some movement on the woods in other side of the village.”

Jinki’s brows furrow. He knew that slavers came this far east, and a part of him still couldn’t shake the paranoia that they were being followed. “Did you see what it was?”

“No.” Taemin shrugs. “Probably an animal, though. It looked pretty low to the ground.”

Taking Taemin’s word for it, Jinki steps out of the bush they had hidden in and brushes off the stray leaves that had already stuck to the stolen meat. Taemin does the same as they walk deeper into the forest back to the small clearing where they had hidden their cloaks and other few belongings.

“We’ll have to cook this, you know,” Taemin says, lifting the hare he carries. “It’s raw.”

“I know.” Jinki sighs and wraps the meat from his arms in a spare cloth to leave it on top of their pack. “I’ll find some kind of kindle and cook it for us.”

“Great. You know I can’t cook at all,” Taemin jests. Jinki forces out a dry laugh before leaving to gather dry branches.

The silent woods leave room for his worries to creep up on him. He knows Taemin too well to not notice that uncertainties been creeping into his increasingly-forced smiles. The excitement that had lit Taemin’s eyes when they’d first crossed the border from Tevinter to the Free Marches is nearly gone, growing dimmer by the day as they struggle through the unfamiliar forests and fields to make their way south.

Jinki isn’t sure now that leaving was right. He’d thought it’d been a simple decision — freedom, or slavery? But the magister always provided for their needs. The mansion was comfortable. He had a bed. He could be sitting back in the magister’s mansion at this time of night, eating freshly-baked bread and the sweetest tarts he could stand.

 _And what would I have to do to earn those?_ Better to have an empty stomach than have human hands on him again. After years of it, the dangers of the wild would be preferable.

Jinki clenches his jaw and drops the branches to the ground when he returns to the clearing. Taemin startles up from the bundled cloak he’d been using as a makeshift pillow before laying back down. “Just wake me when the food’s ready.”

“Alright.” Jinki smiles, then turns his attention to making a fire.

After several failed attempts, he manages to muster a spark from the friction of two branches. He tosses more of the branches they had collected to build the fire stronger, and only looks up once he’s certain it’s hot enough for cooking.

A woman stands in front of him at the edge of the small clearing.

Jinki stares, eyes wide with fear. How had he missed her approach?

She looks back at him with an unflinching gaze that reflects the thin moonlight. Thick lines of ink cut down from her cheekbones to end in a point under her lips. His eyes travel up to her ears, long like his own, and his heart catches in his throat. He’d heard of elves in the wild — savage and vicious, people had said, that traveled in clans and called themselves Dalish — but he had always assumed they were a myth meant to bolster humans’ belief that elves went wild without proper control. He’d never considered they might be real.

The strange elf’s eyes travel down to the hand he has placed on Taemin’s shoulder. Jinki gives him a small shake, but Taemin only slaps his hand away without even opening his eyes. He bites his lip and forces himself to look up, not wanting to risk his attention on waking Taemin up when he isn’t sure of the danger. He wishes he had a knife, as little good as it would do him.

She nods to him. “ _Aneth ara._ ”

Jinki blinks. Her tone was neutral enough to be a greeting, so he tries at his own. “Hello.”

Her expression turns puzzled, and for a moment Jinki thinks she doesn’t understand. He roots through his mind for any elven phrase he can think of, but then she speaks, voice low.

“You’re not from here.”

“No,” he answers her loudly, and somehow the word is enough to make Taemin’s eyes snap open.

“What…?” His eyes widen in alarm when he sits up and sees the strange elf.  Jinki isn’t sure if he’s relieved or frightened when Taemin instantly begins to question her. “Who are you? How long have you been here?”

“My name’s Hyoyeon.” She nods to Jinki. “I’ve only been here a minute. I was speaking to your friend.”

“You’re not going to hurt us?” Taemin asks.

“No.” She smiles reassuringly, and Jinki stiffens when Taemin returns it all too easily. It’s not as if a bandit would be honest about their intentions.

Seeming to read Jinki’s reluctance to speak, she shifts her attention to Taemin. “You both have strange accents. Where are you from?”

"We’re from Tevinter,” Taemin says. “Perivantium, specifically. We escaped.”

She looks back to Jinki, dark eyes narrowing as she processes the implication. “You were slaves?”

“We were.” After looking at Taemin, Jinki gives small nod.

“You’ve come far,” she says. “That’s brave of you. Will your owner hunt you down?”

Jinki chews his lip. “I don’t think so. I think he’s probably surprised we left.”

“Probably,” Taemin scoffs. He glances down and straightens the tattered collar of his shirt to ensure his scars are covered. “The bastard thought of himself as a good man, despite the things he did to me.”

She glances them over once more, as if weighing whether or not to pry, but seems to decide against it. “If you believe no one is following you, you’re welcome to come with me back to my clan. After coming this far, I would hate to see you die of an empty stomach or a cold night.”

Taemin huffs, prideful as ever even when he stands on wobbling legs to brush the dirt off of his knees. “We weren’t going to starve, truly. But we’ll come along.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” She smiles at him, playing along. “But it’s been a good summer, and my clan has harvested too many berries for us all to eat in a day. I’m sure you might be happy to have more than just meat for a meal, and we can give you proper bedrolls too.“

Jinki’s mouth waters at the thought of berries. There had been plenty in the woods as they traveled, but he’d been too worried of accidentally eating something poisonous to risk trying any. The travel food of dry bread and jerky had dampened his spirits more than he’d like to admit. If this was some kind of trap, at least he’d die with sweetness as the last thing he tasted.

When Jinki moves to pick up the rabbit meat he had wrapped in a spare cloth, the woman steps closer and shakes her head.

"Leave the stolen hares behind. The _shemlen_ will blame us if they find evidence of it in our camp. We don’t want to provoke them.”

Jinki stares at the meat in his hand. It’s the first solid food he’s had a chance at in days, and he hasn’t even gotten to cook it yet.

Her expression softens. “Don’t worry, my clan will feed you.”

It takes all of his willpower to leave the food on the ground when he stands. When he steps away, Hyoyeon draws a knife and stabs it into the meat, hooking it in and tugging to rip the flesh. She repeats the process until all of the hares are mangled, meat and bones laying out in the open, then kicks dirt over the remnants.

Though Jinki had already resigned himself to not eating the meat, his stomach still pangs at the waste. “Why’d you do that?”

She sheathes her dagger with a shrug. “I’ve made it look like the work of an animal. They’ll blame wolves or some other creature for the loss of the meat.”

“Smart,” Taemin mumbles. Jinki has to nod in agreement.

A small smile acknowledges their praise, but she says nothing of it and points to the thicker part of the forest that Jinki and Taemin had yet to enter. “Our camp is east. Let’s get you fed and properly clothed so you can rest.”

Jinki nods. Hyoyeon turns towards the direction she had pointed, and his eyes widen at the beautiful woodwork of the bow on her back as she steps away. Weakness from hunger forgotten, he follows her into the trees, only looking back once to make sure Taemin is with him.

***

Jinki reaches the cabin early morning. As he enters the familiar clearing, Jonghyun looks up from his garden, all the contentment from his work lost to a wary smile when he recognizes the approaching elf. When Jinki nears, he gives a stiff wave of his dirt-covered hand that Jinki forces himself to return before stopping at the edge of the garden.

“Morning,” Jinki greets. “Is Taemin up?”

“If he’s awake, he hasn’t let me know it yet.“ Jonghyun shrugs, not meeting his eyes. "You’re welcome to wait inside, though.”

Jinki fidgets with his gloves. He needs to be friendlier than he had been before, if only to get Taemin to forgive him. “You don’t need help harvesting anything?”

“No, I’m nearly done getting what I need for meals today. But thank you.” Jonghyun wipes at his brow with the back of his arm and tries at a smile. “Next I’ll be helping the plants grow, so…”

“Ah — I’ll be inside, then.” Jinki gives a nod at the warning and steps back towards the entrance to the cabin. He knows that Jonghyun means magic, and he’d rather not be present for that.

The hinge of the door groans when he pushes it open. Morning sunlight stretches into the cabin through the kitchen-side window, painting a bright line that leads Jinki’s eyes from the dried herbs hanging over the counter to the small bedside table.

A smile escapes his lips when he sees Taemin sleeping in a position he was all too familiar with: stomach to the mattress and legs stretched out to take the entire bed to himself. At least the few good things from their time in Tevinter hadn’t changed.

Padding across the old wooden floors, Jinki stops at Taemin’s bedside to watch his breathing, feeling a tinge of embarrassment at the accusation he had slung at Jonghyun several days ago. Taemin did look much better than he had the first time he’d found him. There was no longer a strain to his breathing, and the bags under his eyes have nearly vanished. Even his cheeks looked rounder than they had days before.

He pushes Taemin’s hair from his forehead to rest the back of his hand against it to feel for a fever, accidently pushing a stray strand to fall onto his mouth. The twitch of Taemin’s lips into a near grin makes Jinki pull his hand back quickly after he tugs the strand away. "You’ve been awake?”

“More or less,” Taemin mumbles. “The door creaks.”

Jinki laughs, a bit shy at being caught fussing over the other elf. “You could have told me.”

“And interrupt you admiring me? Not a chance.” Taemin pushes himself up from the bed. He shakes his head back and forth until his hair falls fully away from his face, then pulls it back with one hand and reaches for the tie on the bedside table. With a cocky smirk, he lifts his chin as he finishes the knot. “I know that even sick I’m a pretty sight.”

“Tch.” Jinki pushes him lightly. “I’d hoped your travels might have humbled you a bit.”

“I’m humble in the Chantry when I worship the Maker, and that’s the only place it matters.”

Jinki shakes his head, but smiles, pleased that Taemin was already joking with him. He hadn’t expected to be forgiven so easily after their fight, especially when the stress had been enough to make Taemin need rest.

“I’m guessing Jonghyun’s outside…” Taemin looks around the cabin as he stretches his arms above his head with a yawn. “You were nice to him when you arrived?”

“Yes, Taemin,” Jinki huffs, trying not to grimace. He doesn’t see why Taemin felt the need to bring up the mage so soon, when they likely spent every day together. “I was nice. I even offered to help him with his gardening.”

Taemin gives him a cheeky grin. “Good for you! You might make a friend.”

Jinki scoffs. He would be friendly to the mage since Taemin had asked that of him, but nothing more. Before he can tell Taemin as much, the cabin door swings open with a loud snap, making him jump up from the mattress and reach for his bow on instinct.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it open that hard. My hands were just full.” Jonghyun smiles at them apologetically as he dips inside the door before it can swing closed.

Taemin’s nose crinkles in disgust as he looks at the basket filled with turnips and carrots. “Please don’t tell me that’s for our meals today.”

“These grow the fastest.” Jonghyun shrugs as he sets the basket down on the weathered counter. “It’ll have to be vegetable stew again tonight, sorry.”

Taemin groans. “With all the herbs you stuff down my throat, the last thing I need is more vegetables. Can’t we have meat?”

“All out, sorry,” Jonghyun mumbles. “I’m nearly out of the dried meat as well. I haven’t had a chance to hunt since you came back.”

“I can hunt something for you,” Jinki offers. “A solid meal will help you regain your strength faster.”

Taemin’s eyes light up instantly. “You’d do that?”

“I am a hunter for the clan now. It wouldn’t be any trouble.“

"That’d be wonderful.” Taemin says. He looks at Jinki, then at Jonghyun, expression turning thoughtful. “You should bring Jonghyun with you, too.“

On instinct, Jinki opens his mouth to argue, but the warning that Taemin had given him after his last argument with Jonghyun flashes across his mind. He clears his throat, tempering his words to make his protest more practical than personal. “I’m not sure how a mage would be helpful on a hunt.”

“I’m sure Jonghyun can do something — he hunts himself sometimes.” Taemin says. “But he doesn’t need to help, unless you want him to. I just thought it might be good for him to get out of the cabin do something other than fuss over me.”

Jinki crosses his arms. "You need someone to look after you.”

”Not this much! Besides, I haven’t gotten any proper…alone time in weeks.” Taemin stares at each of them intently until Jonghyun’s cheeks turn red and Jinki rolls his eyes.

“You want to kick us out of the cabin for that?” Jinki deadpans.

“Well, of course I’d like something heartier to eat too.” Taemin smiles at him sweetly. “And if both of you go, you might manage to bring back something bigger than a nug. Do a sick elf a favor?”

Jinki pinches his brow. No point in arguing, when he knows he’d give in to what Taemin wanted eventually. He forces back a sigh and speaks. “Fine. We’ll both go.”

“Great!” Jonghyun says, putting enough excitement behind the word that Jinki can only blink and look up in surprise. “Just give me a minute to gather my things, I’ll be ready quickly.”

Jinki watches, puzzled, as the genuine smile on Jonghyun’s face shifts into shyness when Taemin laughs at his eagerness. He can’t imagine why a mage would be excited to hunt, or why he would be anything but reluctant to spend time with Jinki after being accused of blood magic. The stiff greeting Jonghyun had given him certainly made it clear the only reason they even spoke was Taemin — perhaps he had spent too much time with Taemin in the cabin.

Not that the mage’s motivations mattered to him. Jinki would hunt something quickly and come back to the cabin.

He certainly doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing, Jinki thinks, frowning as Jonghyun bustles about the cabin, stopping once at each of the variety of old chests lined up along the wall to dig through his things.

“I’ll be outside,” he says, and steps out of the cabin.

As he waits, Jinki sits on the small bench outside the cabin and strings his bow.

When Jonghyun steps out of the cabin in a brown pair of breeches and a loose shirt, Jinki stares, caught off guard by the change. He hadn’t realized the mage owned anything other than robes. Without the draping fabric to cover his figure, Jonghyun appears even smaller, slim at the waist with only a slight amount of muscle visible on his forearms. His staff is fixed tightly to his back, and a small knife rests at his waist. Jinki eyes the gem of the staff nervously.

Jonghyun follows Jinki’s eyes up to the gem. “If the staff makes you nervous and you want to carry it to keep it from me, you can,” Jonghyun says. “But I want it nearby, in case we run into trouble.”

Jinki purses his lips as he considers the offer, then shakes his head. "You can keep it.”

Jinki doesn’t bother to wait for Jonghyun to catch up with him before slipping into the forest. Half of him is hoping to lose Jonghyun early on. He doesn’t expect the mage to be able to keep up with him when he moves on the hunt. He’s been doing this for years now, trained to keep his steps swift and silent from the best of their clan’s hunters.

To his surprise, Jonghyun manages to keep up with him. He follows Jinki’s steps as a shadow, never more than a foot behind, and just as quiet. It’s only when Jinki suddenly stops to inspect the antler rubs on a tree that Jonghyun breaks the quiet with a loud curse when he nearly runs into Jinki.

“Sorry,” he apologizes.

Jinki looks at Jonghyun from the corner of his eye with grudging respect.  “You’re better at this than I expected.”

“Had to be.” Jonghyun smiles, a touch of bitterness at the corner of his lips. “Being on the run, you learn quickly how to not make a sound in a forest or on the outskirts of a town.”

Jinki’s lips tighten. He remembers learning that all too well. The dread that laid behind each unexpected rustle of leaves or snap of a branch was the mistake that would have him caught by slave hunters and brought back to Tevinter.

“Not that I truly thought the Chantry would worry themselves with hunting a mage of my limited abilities, after I escaped the Circle,” Jonghyun says, too quickly, rushing to lighten the conversation. “But I was worried enough to be careful. I still try and stick away from roads when I leave the cabin.”

“Not a bad habit.”

He’d been so absorbed in moving ahead of Jonghyun, he’d forgotten to keep an arrow at hand.

They both freeze when they hear the low bushes of the forest rustle ahead of them. A hare darts out of the bush only feet away from them, somehow oblivious to the hunting humans ahead of it.

Jinki’s crinkles his nose, fingers twitching against the bow in his hands in irritation. The animal was too near for his bow to be an effective option — this close, drawing it back involve too much of a motion for the hare to not notice their presence, and reaching for his knife would do the same.

Jonghyun’s eyes slip over to his as he remains perfectly still, apparently having the same thought. “I’ll get it,” he mouths.

The hairs on the back of Jinki’s neck raise as he sees the glow of magic seep from his veins into his Jonghyun’s hands as he slowly opens his fingers. He stands perfectly still, watching as the magic pours out of his fingers into a web that moves silently forward across the forest floor.

Jinki tears his eyes away from the magic to watch Jonghyun’s face. The concentrated pull of Jonghyun’s brows towards the bridge of his nose is hard to look away from.

Jonghyun clenches his hand into a fist, and the magic net snaps up in the corner of his vision, instantly snaring the hare.

“Not up to Dalish hunting standards, I’m guessing?”

“No, you did well.” Jinki moves closer to the net to peer at the hare inside. Though it’s eyes are closed, it’s still breathing, deep and steady. “You put it to sleep? I just thought you’d strike it with a bolt to kill it.”

“Can’t,” Jonghyun says. “Not that I’m that useless with magic — it’s just that it’d get overcooked.”

Jinki snorts. “Can’t have that. Taemin likes his meat rare.”

Jonghyun laughs, a purely genuine sound that threatens to make a smile bloom on Jinki’s lips. He looks down at the sleeping hare to hide it and nudges its lax head with a finger. “Did you plan on bringing it back like this?”

“No. I can’t hold a sleep spell for long, so we’ll have to kill it.” Jonghyun bites his lip, eyes on the suspended hare as he reaches slowly for the small knife at his waist. “I never liked this part of hunting…”

Jinki sighs. He’s not sure if how easily the hare would come out of the sleep spell, but he has a feeling that if it awakens, Jonghyun’s hesitance with his knife might make the poor animal suffer more than it should. Drawing his own blade, he waves for Jonghyun to step back.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Jonghyun blinks at him, and his shoulders slump in relief. “Thank you. That’s a big relief.”

Jinki shrugs, attention now on the hare in the magical net. “Can you…?”

“Ah, sorry.” Brows furrowed again, Jonghyun flattens his palms and lowers his hands, bringing the net down with him until the limp body of the hare rests against the ground. With a wave of his fingers, the magic vanishes. Jinki crouches to cut his knife across the hare’s neck, noting in the corner of his vision that Jonghyun had turned away for the kill.

He exhales softly, an amused smile on his lips as he bags the hare and passes it to Jonghyun. The mage had a softer heart than he expected for someone who’d lived alone in the woods for years.

“This will be good for a meal or two, but if you’re out of meat, we should bring back extra for when I’m away with my clan.” Jinki says. “I assume you have salts to preserve them?”

“Plenty.” Jonghyun nods. “Thank you for helping with the hare.”

“I haven’t done anything yet, really,” Jinki grumbles, turning back to the tree with the antler rubbings. From the height of the scratches on the tree, he can tell it’s large — probably big enough to feed Taemin and Jonghyun for a good month if they ration it out. He looks around, trying to trace the animal’s path, and smiles when he finds it. The trees east of them have similar markings, and he’s certain the bushes of berries near Jonghyun’s cabin would be appealing food for the animal.

“Have you ever killed anything larger than a hare before?” Jinki asks. He doesn’t plan on letting Jonghyun get the next kill — his pride wouldn’t allow that — but he’s curious what Jonghyun might do with a larger target.

“I’ve killed quite a few deer throughout the years, though I’m not the best at it.”

“Then why haven’t you gone hunting, if you’re able? You didn’t seem to worry about leaving Taemin alone.”

“Truthfully, I’ve been too nervous to wander the woods alone since I heard the mages and templars were at war. From what Taemin has told me, it sounds like some of the templars are killing any mage they find. I wouldn’t think they’d come this far out, but…” Jonghyun chews his lip.

Jinki stares at Jonghyun, unable to hide his bewilderment. “You feel safer with me here?”

“I suppose?” Jonghyun rubs his nose self-consciously. “I guess that’s odd to admit, considering how we started off, and how things went last time…” he shrugs. “But I do. You’ve never harmed me physically, as much as you seem to hate mages — I can’t say a templar would give me the same chance you did.”

Jinki looks down to fix his gloves. He’s not sure how to take that, so his answer is curt. “Any trust I give you is because of Taemin.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest you give me anything else,” Jonghyun says, too much understanding in his eyes when he smiles. “But I do want to express my thanks to you, for letting me come along and suggesting a hunt. Taemin does need something more solid in his stomach, and I needed the chance to leave my little clearing.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jinki meets Jonghyun’s gaze, fully expecting him to keep talking or play off the seriousness of his words with a self-depreciating joke. When Jonghyun only offers him a shy grin, Jinki slips past him to head east, unsure how else to react. He’s never been one for words, and Jonghyun’s have left him speechless. Why did the mage have to be so damn open about everything?

It makes it hard to keep hating him, Jinki thinks. He doesn’t look back when Jonghyun falls in behind him to avoid Jonghyun reading his confusion.

The silence between them is less heavy than before, but it sits tighter in Jinki’s chest. Before, he’d tried to ignore Jonghyun’s presence, but now he finds himself falling in step with him, the quiet cooperation of the hunt making him take paths better fit for two.

This time, when he stops suddenly, Jonghyun ends up besides him. Jinki puts a finger to his lips to quiet Jonghyun, though the gesture is needless — Jonghyun’s already still, attention on the sound in the bushes ahead of them.  Jinki lowers himself to look under the branch. The buck hasn’t spotted either of them, and there will be a clear shot as soon as it steps closer to drink. Jinki grins.

“What was it?” Jonghyun mouths his question.

Jinki leans in close to ensure Jonghyun can hear him whisper. “It’s a buck — fairly large, too. I’m guessing it’s headed to the spring near your cabin. We’ll stay downwind of it and trail it for a while, so we won’t have to bring it as far.“

“Good idea.” Jonghyun nods. “You lead.”

Jinki looks back over to where the buck had been standing. He waits a short minute before following it with Jonghyun two steps behind him. They fall back into their easy silence as they trail it, and when the buck stops at a bush full of ripened elderberries, Jinki tucks himself behind the nearest tree to hide. He raises his hand to indicate Jonghyun should do the same, but blinks when he realizes has already hidden without a word.

He trusts my judgement, Jinki thinks. He allows the smile on his face to bloom for a moment, only because he’s certain Jonghyun can’t see it from the position he’s taken. As the youngest hunter of his clan, he’s more accustomed to following rather than leading. He closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the feeling for a brief moment before clenching his bow tighter. He’ll make sure they bring the buck back today.

After taking one glance around the tree to ensure the buck is still there, he takes a moment to scan the surrounding foliage for a spot to hide as he aims. Finding the coverage that will allow him to hide without impeding his shot is a careful balance, but one he’s learned well. Crouching down, Jinki treads a few steps to a fallen tree resting behind a bush.

Keeping an eye on the buck to ensure he hasn’t been heard, he lowers himself to one knee, steadying his breathing as he nocks the arrow in place. As he pulls back on the bowstring, he lowers his aim to just behind the deer’s front shoulder and releases once he has his shot. The buck staggers when the arrow pierces its hide, then falls, a sharp cry leaving it mouth when Jinki fires a quick second shot to its hind leg.

Jumping up, Jinki dashes after the buck as it struggles to get onto its hooves. He reaches the weakened animal before it can fully stand and grasps one of its antlers in his left hand and draws his knife in the other to quicken its end with a slit across the throat. The buck slumps under him instantly, horns smashing the dried branches with a loud crack when its head hits the ground.

Jinki stands to catch his breath, chest heaving with each word as he murmurs out a quick prayer of thanks to Andruil for guiding his arrow true. He hated having to trail an animal for hours, knowing it was suffering as he waited for it to die, and is grateful he was given the chance to make the kill swift.

A low whistle from behind the bushes makes him turn around.

"That was impressive,” Jonghyun says. He joins Jinki by the dead buck and stares at the arrow shaft sticking out of its side, only a touch of discomfort under his amazement. “You hit it right in the heart.”

“I’m Dalish, a follower of _Vir Tanadhal_ — of course I’m good at this,” Jinki says, brushing off the praise in hopes Jonghyun doesn’t notice the pleased flush rising on his cheeks. Though his clan had quickly accepted him once he showed a willingness to learn, praise from any of the senior hunters was rare.

Jonghyun blinks at him, trying to figure out the words from context before giving a shrug. “Not sure what the elven part of what you said means, but I assume that has something to do with being a damn good shot.”

Jinki laughs as he wipes his bloodied hands off on his clothes. “Something like that.”

He looks down at the buck, mentally assessing its weight. He could likely carry it on his own even without dressing it —  he had done it once before, as part of the hunt to earn his face markings — but to do it when he had help available would be pointlessly prideful.

“I could use your help dragging this back.” His lips quirk as he remembers Jonghyun’s earlier reluctance with the hare. “Unless this is too gruesome for you?”

Jonghyun shakes his head. “It’s the killing I dislike. Already dead, it’s just meat.”

“True.” Jinki fastens his bow to his back and turns the buck’s head to point in the direction of the cabin. “You grab one antler, and I’ll grab the other.”

Jonghyun nods and grabs the antler nearest him, waiting for Jinki to join him before he tries to pull. At the first tug forward, Jinki grins wide, the pride from his success sinking when he feels the heavy weight of the buck’s carcass resist their efforts. He can already imagine the look on Taemin’s face when he sees the size of the buck he’d manage to fell.

The shift in his mood must be palpable, because Jonghyun looks over at him and laughs, the sound coming strained and short as he continues pulling. “Are you always this happy after killing?”

“I worked hard to get this good, so yes,” Jinki admits. He glances over at Jonghyun, noting the furrow in his brows as he pulls. It’s obvious the mage isn’t used to hard labor. “Do you always have such trouble moving things?”

Jonghyun grits his teeth as he struggles to yank the deer over a large tree root. “I told you, it’s been awhile since I hunted.”

Shaking his head, Jinki continues to pull. The rest of the walk back to the cabin is quiet, only the occasional noise of effort from Jonghyun and the drag of the buck against the ground following them until they reach the clearing that holds Jonghyun’s cabin.

Jonghyun drops the antler the second they arrive and shakes out his arms. “Maker, I’m sweating.” He pushes back his hair from his forehead and fans himself with a loud sigh. Sweat runs down from his jaw to the line of his neck, highlighting it in sharp relief from the tan of his skin when he turns to Jinki.  “Do you need help dressing the deer, or can I change into something else? My shirt is soaked through.”

Jinki waves his hand, in a hurry to get Jonghyun to change. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll be faster with it anyway.”

“You’re right about that.” Jonghyun grins at him. He toes off his dirty boots one at a time, then trods on his bare feet back to the cabin.

Jinki watches him leave, an unsettled feeling in his chest when the door swings shut behind him. He isn’t sure if he wants the noise to wake Taemin up or not.

The empty clearing leaves him with nothing to turn over but that thought, making him itch for something familiar. He grabs his knife and begins to dress the deer, letting the gruesome work clear his mind as he concentrates on keeping the good meat from getting contaminated by the innards. By the time Jonghyun is out, he has the buck gutted, skinned, and hanging from a tree on the outer circle of the clearing.

Jonghyun approaches him, only a slight crease of his brow giving away his repulsion at the strung animal. “Either I spent ages cleaning up, or you’re even faster at that than I could have guessed. You did that quickly.”

Jinki shrugs, wearing a frown of his own when he glances at Jonghyun out of the corner of his eye and sees that he’s changed back into his usual ratty robes. Though they were nowhere near an elaborate and dark Tevinter style, Jonghyun had still seemed more approachable in breeches and a shirt.

“Did you want this for dinner, or the hare?” Jinki asks.

“The hare will be good. Better to use the small thing, we can make a whole meal out of it,” Jonghyun says.

“I’m sure Taemin’s stick of stew, so I say just cook it over the fire on a stick or something. I’ll skin it for you so you can get started on it while I finish up the deer.” He shakes the worst of the gore off his hands before reaching into the bag to pull out the hare. Half of him expects Jonghyun to find something else to do when he begins to skin it, but to his surprise, Jonghyun sits on a nearby stump and watches him work in silence.

The quiet that had been comfortable before unnerves Jinki now — whether that’s because Jonghyun’s eyes on his hands are too much like an elder hunter assessing his skill, or because he feels grimy and unkempt next to Jonghyun’s cleaned up appearance, he doesn’t know, but it’s uncomfortable enough that he forces himself to speak. “Is Taemin up yet?”

Jonghyun shakes his head. “I managed to avoid waking him,” he says, then grins. “He’ll wake up once I start cooking for sure, though. He always does.”

“I bet.” Jinki laughs, relaxing again. He tosses the rabbit skin aside and divides the rest into easily cookable parts before holding it out to Jonghyun. “All done — here’s your meal.”

“Damn, you’re fast.” Jonghyun stands and pushes up his sleeves. “Let me get a fire going.”

Jinki tenses. It’s a clear warning that magic would be present soon. He had stood by Jonghyun when he used magic during their hunt, but he hadn’t had much of a choice then. If I handled it then, I can handle it now, he tells himself, then follows Jonghyun with the meat over to the small pit that had been dug into the clearing.

The glance that Jonghyun gives him makes it obvious that he had expected Jinki to leave, but Jinki lifts his chin, as if daring Jonghyun to comment. He doesn’t mention it.

Jonghyun crouches over the small fire pit. Magic sparks out from his palms when he rubs his hands together, slowly bringing the kindling aflame.

Jinki watches the fire grow as Jonghyun repeats the motion, unable to help himself from comparing it to the magister, who had always lit the hearth with a sharp snap, and Joonmyeon, who lit their clan’s campfire with a precise flick of the wrist. Jonghyun’s coaxing of the flame is a gentle contrast that makes Jinki pause as the warmth of the growing fire blooms. He’d always assumed magic had strict rules — that fire required quickness, and healing pliant hands — but each mage must handle their magic differently.

“You going to pass me the food?” Jonghyun’s lips quirk at the corner.

Jinki blinks, realizing he’d been standing dumbly in place due to his thoughts.

“Yes, of course.” Jinki not-quite shoves the dead hare at him with the hopes that’ll squash any questions about his distraction. “I’m going to go wash the mess off my hands, so I don’t mix it with the water you keep for drinking here.”

“Alright.” Jonghyun smiles. “Be back before dinner.”

***

The water of the stream runs red when Jinki delves his hands into the deepest part. He submerges them to the depth of his forearm, alternating hands to scrub and flick away the bits of gore left behind as his thoughts wander away from him.

With it, the stream seems to wash away the last resistance Jinki has to the thought flitting through his head through the first hour of the hunt: Jonghyun deserves his trust. It’s against every instinct he has — to trust a _shem_ with magic — but the firey hate he’d carried only days ago feels out of place now. He can’t find it in him to hate Jonghyun. Though he’s only been with the Dalish for a little over three years, he had learned quickly how much a hunt could speak to someone’s character. The fact that Jonghyun was reluctant to even kill the hare he trapped spoke to his kindness, but his willingness to take a life if necessary spoke to his sense.  

 _Even his magic is gentle,_ Jinki recalls. _He’s a decent man_. _Soft-hearted, but practical where it counts._

Standing back straight, Jinki shakes his hands of the water. The least Jonghyun deserved was his respect. He would never give a human the trust he automatically extended to one of the People, but he could at least rest his suspicions away.


	3. Chapter 3

“Andraste’s tits!“ Taemin swings the door of the cabin open with the force of a raging animal. “It smells good out here.”

His eyes widen beneath the wild hair covering half his face when he sees the venison Jinki is dividing into a box Jonghyun had charmed full of ice earlier. “You killed that? A whole deer?” He shifts from shock to glee when he sees the pan held by Jonghyun over the fire. “Is that what we’re having for dinner?”

“The deer was actually all Jinki,” Jonghyun says. “But we’re not having that tonight. I thought it best for us to use the hare we got first.”

“Maker, I’ll eat anything.” Taemin sits down on the bench nearest the fire. Wafting the smoke towards him, he tilts his head back and inhales the smoke from the cooking meat with a dramatic moan. “This smells wonderful.”

“Thank you.” Jonghyun smiles as he shuffles the cut hare around the pan. “I was worried I might have made the wrong choices for seasoning. I haven’t cooked meat in so long, I hardly had any herbs to suit how I usually make it. I fussed a bit over what to use instead, so it took me a while to get started.”

“Don’t care how long it took you to start, so long as it’ll be ready soon,” Taemin says. A pang in Jinki’s stomach echoes the statement.

“It’s nearly done, just one more minute.” Jonghyun spares a glance away from the pan to smile at them both. “I should let it cook in the gravy I made for a second more, to absorb the flav—”

“To the void with gravy, I’d go without if that means I can eat it now.” Taemin swipes a plate form the stack Jinki had brought to the bench earlier and thrusts it towards Jonghyun. “Thank you.”

Jonghyun laughs. Without any complaint, he scoops a large serving of the dish out of the pan and piles it onto Taemin’s plate.

Jinki lifts his chin to peer over Taemin’s hands to the remaining contents of the pan. As always, Jonghyun had cooked enough for three of them. Jinki had never allowed himself to eat or drink anything the mage served, fearing contamination or poisoning, but the travel rations he had brought for himself sounded woefully bland compared to the fresh hare currently tempting him.

His fingers inch towards the nearby plates. When Jonghyun deems the dish finished with a hum and a smile, Jinki holds out a plate for himself without a word. Best to pretend he had never refused food from the mage before.

The change doesn’t go unnoticed. Jonghyun looks down at the plate with wide eyes, and his lips part briefly before closing again to cut off the question he decided against asking aloud. He serves Jinki his portion — more than he had left for himself, but Jinki doesn’t care enough to argue — with a smile that sends a tingle up the back of Jinki’s neck.

He’s too hungry to care about the strangeness of that. He starts on his food as he pulls the plate back, and digs in faster with each bite. He’d gotten so used to the light seasoning and foraged greens of his clan’s food, he hadn’t realized how much he missed the rich and heavy flavor of gravied meats.

His enjoyment must not be obvious, because Jonghyun gives them both apologetic smiles after the first bite from his own plate. ““Sorry if the cooking is a bit off. It’s been awhile since I’ve cooked meat.”

“It’s good, I think,” Taemin says, chewing loudly around mouthful of food. “I think it might be a little overdone, though, especially considering you were gonna cook mine even longer. It’s kinda tough.”

Jinki frowns. His next words leave his mouth before he can think over them. “You could show a little gratitude.”

Taemin’s mouth drops open. He stares at Jinki, eyes wide. "You’re…defending Jonghyun? Really?”

Jinki scrunches his nose. “I’m not defending him. I’m teaching you manners. You should appreciate any meal you’re given.”

“Hm.” Taemin sniffs and sticks out his leg to poke at Jinki’s bare feet with his boot. “You can teach me manners as soon as you reacquaint yourself with proper footwear.”

Jinki draws his toes back protectively. “We’re meant to be bare-footed. I can’t imagine ever going back to boots. You have no idea how restrictive they feel until you stop wearing them.“

“Doesn’t it hurt, though?” Jonghyun asks, curious. “I can’t imagine it’s comfortable stepping on sticks and stones all the time.”

“It hurt when I first started going without,” Jinki admits. “I hadn’t built up the callouses I needed yet, but with time I grew used to it.”

“Hm.” Jonghyun seems to be thinking it over as he pushes the last of his meal around his plate. “Maybe I’ll try it, then. Would that be odd?”

Jinki trails his eyes over Jonghyun, and his lips curl up into a smile at the image of the barefooted human in the forest. “I think some of your robes would trail on the ground without the extra height boots give you.”

With a huff of indignation, Jonghyun sets aside his plate and stands. He looks down to where his robes stop just below the ankles. The tattered pieces hang even lower, and he visibly deflates at the realization. “You’re right, actually. Guess I’ll have to stick to shoes, then.”

“Good.” Taemin nods. “Boots also serve the purpose of trapping foot odor where it belongs.”

“So I’m short, and my feet apparently stink,” Jonghyun grumbles. He sits with an exaggerated pout that makes Jinki want to laugh. “Lovely. I’ll keep that in mind the next time I cook for you both.”

“To be fair, you’re not incredibly short…just about the average elf’s height,” Taemin says. He uses Jonghyun’s distraction to steal a bite from his plate. “Me and Jinki just lucked out.”

Jinki grins over at Taemin when Jonghyun sighs.

The rest of the dimming afternoon passes in an easy kind of companionship. Jinki listens with a small smile on his face as they take turns telling stories, and it stays even when Jonghyun speaks. The story of the last time Jonghyun had hunted alone turns into a directionless rambling about his inability to figure out the ingredients of Joonmyeon’s poultice for rashes, and Taemin’s story of his brief work as a servant in Antiva carries into a lively discussion of his accidental involvement with an ex-assassin. It reminds him of his early time in the clan, when Taemin was still there with him, and before Hyoyeon had busied herself with courting Joonmyeon’s sister and jungah had her second child.

Jonghyun’s involvement in their banter dips with the sunset. Elbows on his knees, he slumps forward, beginning his second yawn of the minute until Taemin interrupts it with a pinch to his side.

“Jonghyun, go to bed. You’re exhausted.”

“No. It’s embarrassing that hunting tired me out this much,” he mumbles. “I only killed a hare and followed Jinki around. Besides, I’m having fun listening.”

“You are?” Jinki raises a brow. “Then what were we just talking about?”

Jonghyun licks his lips. “Um…something about wine?”

Jinki snickers. “Yeah, you should sleep.”

Jonghyun frowns. “Someone needs to make sure Taemin gets the rest he needs. He’ll stay up all night if I don’t nag him, and then he’ll fall sick again.”

Taemin sighs. “I told you I’m getting my energy back, and having a hearty meal helped. I should be able to go on walks soon, I think, to test my endurance. Staying up late once won’t hurt me.”

“That’s good.” Jonghyun is still standing still, visibly hesitant. “I’m worried if you stay out here too long, though…”

“Don’t worry about him.” Jinki waves him off. “You’ve handled him enough. I’ll make sure Taemin doesn’t push himself more than he should. You can sleep.”

Jonghyun smiles at him gratefully. “Thank you, Jinki. I think I will get some rest then. I’m exhausted.”

He ignores Taemin’s complaint that he doesn’t need a handler and enters the cabin on dragging feet.

♦♦♦

At the click of the last aravel door closing, Jinki pulls his bedroll down and looks over at Taemin’s. The lump is unmoving in the dark, but he knows better than to assume that means Taemin is asleep. He pokes a finger under the cotton and whispers, “You still awake?”

“Unfortunately,” Taemin grumbles. He sits up with a long sigh, letting the bedroll bunch around his waist as he combs out his hair. “Ever since that giant bug got in my boot, I keep thinking they’re everywhere.”

Jinki suppresses a laugh. “I hope there’s none in your bedroll. You want to see if anyone else is up?”

“Sure,” Taemin says.

Jinki smiles, steps quiet but eager as he heads for the smaller firepit along the camp’s edge. He knows a few of the clan members close to their age head back to the fire after the elders retire for the night.

They even have a term for themselves: the elves who don’t sleep. They had come up with a name for themselves in elven, but it was too long for Jinki to say properly on his Tevene-accented tongue. Hyoyeon, the hunter who had found them near-starving and travel-worn in the woods; Joonmyeon, the clan’s Second, a healer mage that had given Jinki a balm to ease the soreness in his shoulders when he’d first picked up the bow last week; and jungah, a newly-married woman who insisted on mothering everyone in the clan until she had a child of her own.  When Jinki had attached himself to Hyoyeon’s side to start learning the way of the bow, he became the newest addition of the small group, and Taemin came with him.

The smell of smoke from the doused campfire is still hanging in the air when Jinki arrives with Taemin and sprawls out on the dry grass. Hyoyeon sits with her legs wide on the nearest crate, greeting him with a short nod as she steals a long drink from the canteen at jungah’s side to celebrate her successful hunt.

Joonmyeon joins Jinki on the ground and holds out a bag full of roasted seeds. “Want some, da’len?”

Jinki crinkles his nose when Hyoyeon laughs, but grabs a handful. Jinki felt comfortable enough with him to let him get away with teasing, despite his magical abilities.  The few mages in the clan used magic only to heal or aid their travels, and Jinki was growing to think of it — like so many other things — as something that only became corrupted in _shem_ hands.   

“You can only get away with calling him that because he’s bare-faced.” jungah points out.

Jinki turns to Hyoyeon, sensing an opportunity to ask the question that’s been on his mind. “I’ve been meaning to ask…what’re the markings you have? I’ve noticed the children don’t have them, and yours are different than Joonmyeon’s.”

"These?” She points to the lines on her face, and Jinki nods. “We call them vallaslin. They represent the Creator we’ve dedicated ourselves to. As a hunter, I’ve pledged myself to Andruil. Joonmyeon’s pledged himself to Sylaise, since he makes all those potions and things. And jungah’s vallaslin are for Mythal, since she’s the All-Mother and jungah wants to pop out as many babies as possible with her handsome vhenan.”

“I only want five!” jungah huffs out in protest as the circle laughs.

Only Taemin lips tighten in a straight line. His disapproval at the list of the elven goddesses is plain on his face, but if anyone but Jinki noticed, they choose to ignore it as Hyoyeon jumps into an explanation of the remaining elven Creators. She points to various clan members around the camp as examples of the vallaslin to correspond with each, and Jinki listens with rapt attention even after Taemin makes a feeble excuse and leaves, drinking in the myths eagerly as if it were the water he’d always needed.

“I’d like to have vallaslin myself, if I’m to stay with the clan…” Jinki mumbles when Hyoyeon finishes. Though Hyoyeon had been nothing but welcoming, he can’t help but remember the coldness of the craftsman and the halla keeper when he’d tried to offer him their help.

“You do?” She laughs. “It hurts bad, and you can’t make a single sound while getting them. The Keeper will stop if you do. But getting them means you’re an adult, and you’re past old enough for that. Once you get enough training to be of use to the clan in some way, I see no reason you shouldn’t get them.”

Jinki looks up. “You think I’ll be allowed to? Even though I’m from Tevinter?”

Hyoyeon rubs at her nose, the same uncomfortable gesture she always did when dealing with genuine emotions, and makes sure jungah and Joonmyeon are distracted before she leans forward to speak to him quietly. “You risked everything to avoid submitting to the _shem_ in slavery. I think you deserve to live here as one of the People, though you were not born to us. And if the Keeper doubts your worthiness, I will vouch for you.”

Jinki looks away quickly, before Hyoyeon can see the wetness in his eyes. He isn’t sure what to say, and his throat is tight with the burn of the few words he can think of, so he only nods. Hyoyeon cared about him. Joonmyeon had a nickname for him, irritating as it is. jungah lectured him the same as all the bare-faced and still-learning elves in the clan, despite his age.

Certain his eyes are dry, he smiles at the vallaslin-marked faces around him. More than a temporary refuge, the clan was starting to feel something like a home.

***

“You and Jonghyun seem to be getting along well enough now.”

Jinki hums, not wanting to agree firmly. “How a person hunts speaks to their character. He wasn’t careless or cruel, so I assume he’s a decent sort.”

“I told you he was a good man.” Taemin pokes his ribs with a victorious grin. “You should have listened to me sooner.”

“You know it’s not that simple.” Jinki sighs. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I can’t stand the thought of it. Especially after escaping, it just…the idea of you getting hurt feels like it would make all our risks and sacrifices for nothing.”

“Even if I did get hurt, we still have our freedom,” Taemin says. “We can go where we like. That’s something that can’t be replaced.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jinki says. Though he had chosen to stay with the Dalish, that had been a choice — one that had been hard to stick with, after Taemin had been shunned, but it was still his own.

“I haven’t exactly been perfect either. I’m sorry for snapping at you last time. You went through shit in Tevinter too.”

“We all did.” Jinki shrugs. “I wasn’t used for blood magic, though.”

Taemin gives him a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

Jinki looks at Taemin, reading in his eyes that there’s something he’s holding back. “You look as if that’s not all you want to say.”

“It’s not.” Taemin’s brow creases, and his head hangs in a gesture of what Jinki would call shame if he saw it on anyone else. “I’ve been meaning to say something since I first saw you…I want to apologize for something else, too. ”

Jinki blinks. He hadn’t expected the first apology, and he can’t imagine what the next would be about. “For what?”

“For not running away with you when you first suggested it. As much as I wanted to travel…I was afraid of leaving Tevinter then, and I was selfish.” Taemin bites his lip. “I didn’t know what was going on.”

Jinki stares. His fists clench against his thighs. Taemin almost sounded like he knew. But he couldn’t — Jinki had worked so hard to hide it —

“I’m not going to pry. I know how you are, and the fact that you never bring it up says enough. But now that I’m older and I’ve been around, I can guess what was going on with the magister.”

A lump forms in Jinki’s throat, but Taemin continues on, this time with a hand over Jinki’s.

“You don’t have to say anything, Jinki. I just wanted to apologize. I was too caught up in my own shit — I still get too caught up in my own shit. And I’m sorry it took me being hurt to realize we needed to get out of Tevinter.”

Jinki inhales sharply.

Of all the things Taemin could apologize for, he hadn’t expected that. It itches at his own guilt for what he’d done back then, and he finds himself blurting out an apology before he realizes all that reveals.

“I’m sorry too,” Jinki says. “It’s my fault he used your blood for that ritual — he was going to do it to me, at first. I talked him out of it, but if I had known he would use you instead….”

Taemin’s lips tighten. “That’s not your fault. He would have done it to any slave, Jinki. Anyone young and unimportant enough to be taken away from their duties for a while could’ve gotten picked.” He laughs softly. “I just had shit luck.”

The chip Taemin’s words put in the guilt Jinki’s been holding for so long makes him smile. “This sincerity is odd coming from you.”

“I know, right?” Taemin grins and swings an arm over his shoulder. “I’m much more suited to swearing and dirty jokes. And devout prayers, when the Maker calls for it.”

Jinki laughs and leans against him. His chest feels so much lighter.

Taemin’s fingers curl around his shoulder as he sighs. “Fuck Tevinter, still. But…this was a good part of it.”

“Yeah, it was.” Jinki closes his eyes. He imagines that it’s not yet night, and they’re still in their sunset spot outside the gardens with the warmth of the late afternoon sun on their shoulders. The knot in his chest loosens from the simplicity of the feeling, and he relaxes further against Taemin to hear the steady beat of his heart.

A long moment passes where there’s only the two of them and the birds in the surrounding trees. If he were leaning against anyone else, the slow silence would drag his mind away to other topics, but with Taemin, all he thinks of is the refuge they served as for each other in Tevinter.

When he lets out a content sigh, Taemin’s lips pull into grin against his hair. “Hope you’re not falling asleep on me. I might have enough strength to come outside, but there’s no way I’d be able to carry you.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Jinki protests, sitting up. He means to glare his protest at Taemin, but only ends up staring at the same smile from years ago and lingering on his lips.

Nostalgia flutters in his stomach when the smile broadens, and Taemin raises a brow, entirely aware of his own good looks. It should be a joke. Should make him laugh. But he’s too at peace to take it in jest, and Taemin feels safe. Familiar. And before he can think, Jinki presses his lips lightly against Taemin’s in a perfect reversal of their first kiss.

“I missed this.” Jinki murmurs against Taemin’s mouth. His lips are warm, and his whole body is burning pleasantly with the pure feeling of it, like it hasn’t been years. Like their time in Tevinter had been nothing but shared tarts and shared bedrolls in winter and Taemin’s hands, small and firm on his cheeks as he brought Jinki close.

But there’s no hands this time. Taemin’s smile falls when he looks up into Jinki’s eyes, lips now fully etched into a frown from what he sees. “…I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Jinki swallows, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t go back to…whatever it was that we had when we were kids, that never went anywhere in Tevinter,” Taemin says. He moves his hands away from Jinki, eyes filled with a pity that makes Jinki regret the impulsive kiss. “Sharing a past doesn’t mean we share a future, Jinki.”

“It could,” Jinki says. The ground feels like it’s opening up under him, and he claws desperately for a reason that what they nearly had couldn’t be. “Doesn’t it make it easier?”

“Not really. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” Jinki asks. “We’ve always gotten on well.”

“I want to travel, Jinki. And you want to stay with the clan — they’re your home. How’s that supposed to work?”

Jinki’s heart’s heart catches in his throat. Not because he has something to say, but because Taemin is right. He would get better, and he would leave. To travel and dance and visit every Chantry he can find for the Maker that had never once spoken to Jinki.

“I’m sorry,” Taemin says.

“Don’t be,” Jinki says, though his throat is tight around the words. “We escaped for a reason. It’s good for you to use your freedom fully.”

“Yeah.” Taemin tries at a smile that Jinki forces himself to return. “You’ll still visit, though? Until I’m better?”

“I think so,” Jinki says, though he’s unsure. He can’t decide if it’s better to end this now, or to soak up as much time with Taemin as he can.

“You have to. I like Jonghyun well enough — he’s a handsome man, and he’s kind, but he drives me a bit mad, sometimes. He talks to himself and sings in his sleep.”

Jinki snorts at the image. Somehow, he’d been lucky enough not to experience that in the nights he’d spent in Jonghyun’s cabin.

“Humans smell weird in summer, too,” Taemin continues on now that he’s certain returning to his usual quips is lifting Jinki’s mood. “And I don’t want to be stuck alone in the cabin with that. Bring me some of those good smelling spice satchels Lavellen makes, if you can?”

Jinki shakes his head. He remembers how Taemin had tried to pilfer them all when he’d first learned of them, and he knows that Taemin is only asking for them to ensure he returns. “You want the ones with only spice in them, or the ones with flowers as well?”

“Flowers and spice.” Taemin smiles at him easily. Jinki smiles and nods back, his rejection nearly forgotten.

Taemin is too dear of a friend for him to linger on it, especially when it had been entirely on impulse.  Heart only a little heavier than it had been that afternoon, Jinki stands and gestures for Taemin to join him. “I’ll ask Joonmyeon to make some and bring them with me next time. But let’s get some rest, or else we’ll be up all night.”

Skeptical, Taemin searches his face for a hint of distress before agreeing.

♦♦♦

Jinki finds Taemin sitting at the edge of camp with a long piece of parchment stretched across his lap.

He approaches Taemin quietly, using the tricks Hyoyeon had taught him on their last hunt to circle noiselessly around the camp until he could be sure he was out of view.  Once he’s certain he has Taemin’s back to him, he moves closer, careful to avoid branches and dry patches of grass that would rustle with his steps. Taemin has been secretive as of late, and he doesn’t want whatever the boy has been hiding to be put away before he can even get a glimpse.

When he reaches the barrels stacked behind the log Taemin is using as a seat, he holds his breath and stands on his toes to peer over Taemin’s shoulder. At the sight of drawn borders, Jinki almost laughs. Not surprising to see Taemin with a map on him — the first thing he had done when they’d gotten to trade with humans was buy a map of the Free Marches the clan traveled in and blank parchment and ink to work on his own — but the neat calligraphy in the bottom corner gives him pause.

Antiva? That was an entirely different country.

“You know, you’re getting good at that silent-creeping thing the hunters do. I barely heard you approach.” Taemin looks over his shoulder with a small grin. The parchment in his lap rolls up, and he flattens it back with a growl, fighting fruitlessly to keep the curled corners flat.

Jinki moves around the barrels to sit next to Taemin and hold down one end of the map. As he stares at the parchment, Taemin looks away and chews his lip, a sure sign of guilt.

Jinki only hopes it’s not for what he suspects.

“What’re you looking at a map of Antiva for?” He probes.

Taemin’s finger traces across the map’s border, from the southern edge nearest the Free Marches then up along the coast to finally stop at Antiva City. “I’ll be going there next. I want to see the Amaranthine Ocean, since I’ve never gotten to see one before. It should take me a few weeks to get there.”

Silent, Jinki stares at the map. He wants to tear it apart.

“I’ve been here half a year now. You know I’ve wanted to travel.”

Jinki knows. The words fall heavy on him still, and he rolls up the map from the side he holds, not wanting to see it a second longer.  The respect Taemin had given him for the work involved in making the damned thing is the only reason he keeps his hands gentle.

“Were you going to tell me?” Jinki asks. His hands shake as he pushes the map back towards Taemin. “You’ve never mentioned Antiva before. This seems sudden.”

Taemin smiles wryly. “It is, a bit. I’d hoped to have more of a plan before I go see the rest of the world.”

“Then think it out a while longer. There’s no rush, right?” Jinki says. He hopes he doesn’t sound desperate.

“They want me to worship their Creators. Mythal and Andruil and all the other ones, I don’t know, I’ve started tuning it out.” Taemin scowls. “I’m apparently not welcome much longer unless I renounce the Maker and take up their ancient elven bullshit.”

Jinki bristles. Though he’s only lived with the clan for a short while, the disdain in Taemin’s voice hurts. The disapproving twitch of Taemin’s brow every time any clan member brought up a Creator and his still-nightly prayers to the Maker gave away that he thought little of their traditions, but he hadn’t imagined he hated them this much.

“It’s not bullshit,” he says, only speaking once he’s certain he can keep his voice level. He doesn’t want to draw the attention of the other elves. “The Dalish — we — worship the Creators who’ve given us the gifts that allow us to live as we do.”

“Yes, the Dalish lifestyle — hunting, scavenging, sleeping outside every damn night you can to avoid being cramped in the aravels. Traveling in giant circles around the Free Marches to keep the humans from finding us. Just the kind of thing I want to waste my life doing.”

“How is it a waste?” Jinki presses. “You always said you wanted to travel, and we do that plenty.”

“Traveling in the same woods forever isn’t traveling.” Branches crack beneath Taemin’s boots as he stands and scoffs. “I don’t want to stay in the Free Marches forever and spend all my time in the wild. I want to see cities. Chantries. Mountains and seas and everything else the Maker’s made.” He sets his jaw and crosses his arms. “I’m not giving up my faith.”

Jinki looks up at Taemin, incredulous.  “You’re really going to leave the clan? For some _shem_ religion?“

Taemin lifts his chin stubbornly. “Yes, I am. And it’s not just a faith for humans — The Maker speaks to all of us.”

Jinki grits his teeth. He wants to argue that it was Taemin’s damn religion that had driven the Dalish out of their homes in the Dales and forced them into wandering, but he already knows that would lead to a shouting match the clan couldn’t ignore. As angry as he is, he doesn’t want him to get kicked out early.

Tears sting at the corners of his eyes as a hollow ache in his chest suddenly douses his anger. He’d been growing to accept the possibility of Taemin leaving, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon.

“So that’s it, then?” Jinki blinks until he’s reasonably certain his eyes aren’t glassy enough for Taemin to notice. “You’re leaving.”

Taemin nods. "I will be soon enough. The Keeper requested I leave before the fall ends.”

It’s the end of summer now. Jinki steals a glance at the trees around them to look at the leaves, the weight in his chest lifting a little when he sees barely a spot of brown. They have at least another month or two, then.

Taemin sits down next to him, closer than he had been before he stood. He sets the map aside to lean against Jinki’s shoulder. Jinki wraps an arm around Taemin’s shoulder to fiddle with the ends of Taemin’s ponytail, heart tightening painfully at the feeling of the blond strands between his fingers.

“Will you be alright on your own?” Jinki asks, as if Taemin were the one realizing they’d never been apart.

“The chantries outside of Tevinter serve as refuges for travelers, I’ve heard,” Taemin says. “And I can always become a gardener or a servant or something. I’ll be fine.”  

Jinki almost smiles at how completely Taemin had managed to avoid answering the question he meant.

♦♦♦

The smell of fresh blood and ink fills the Keeper’s aravel. Written elvish curls around glowing pictures of bows and trees the Keeper had waved to life on the walls, illuminating the inside in a golden glow.

Jinki’s clenched fists rest against his thigh. He doesn’t dare to shake. The needle dipped in a mix of his own blood and ink is in the Keeper’s hand and against his chin, pushing the design of Andruil deep into his skin.

“This blood writing will mark you as one of the People. It sets you apart from the _shemlen_ , and the elves who have thrown their lot in with them,” she says, starting on the thick line that will cut from his cheekbone to the corners of his mouth. “Your vallaslin marks you as a dedicate of the goddess Andruil, the huntress. You will follow Vir Tanadahl throughout the rest of your life.”

Jinki breathes in slowly when the keeper pulls back after the last marking for his chin is complete. She dips the needle back into the bowl, then returns to the side of his mouth to paint the thick line that will rise up to his cheek.

“You’re taking this well,” she murmurs when he doesn’t flinch. “Better than some who have waited for this since birth.”

Jinki blinks slowly to convey his thanks. It’s still not time for him to speak. Any noise or cry of pain would make him unworthy of the markings. He had worked too hard to get them, and they mean too much.

But he’s not worried about making a noise. He’s good at getting far enough out of his head that the pain only feels like a distant dream. He only wants the ritual to be over soon so he can find his reflection in the nearest stream and see the deep brown markings on his face. They’re proof that he belongs to clan Lavellan now, and that he will never know the submission of slavery again.

He’s never wanted anything more.

***

When Jinki returns to the cabin two weeks later, only Jonghyun greets him at the door. He looks over the mage’s shoulder, panic brewing in his chest. Had Taemin left without saying anything?

The lump in his throat makes it hard to get out the question. “Where’s Taemin?”

“He wandered off to visit the nearby village and refused to let me stop him.” Jonghyun shakes his head and invites Jinki inside, an affectionate smile on his lips. “I told him to come back as soon as he’s done, don’t worry. The village is only a few miles away, so he should be fine.”

“You didn’t stop him from leaving?”

“Have you ever tried to stop him? He’s stubborn as an ox.”

Jinki nods stiffly, trying not to worry.

“I am sorry I couldn’t convince him to stay longer.” Jonghyun rubs his nose uncomfortably. “But I didn’t let him leave without some way to tell if he’s alright.”

“I’m not sure how you could know if he’s well or not, considering you’re here and he’s somewhere else,” Jinki says. It comes out more harshly than he’d meant it to, but Jonghyun only smiles.

“I understand that sounds odd, my apologies.” Jonghyun moves to the desk in the corner and returns with a small pink stone from his desk. The stone gives off a faint glow when he holds it up. “I’m not powerful enough to conduct speech through a stone…not even close.” He laughs softly. “But you can sense his presence and health through this. I’ll be able to tell if he falls ill again, and needs one of us to go find him.”

Jinki eyes the rock skeptically. “Does it really work?”

“Yes,” Jonghyun says. “You can hold it, if you like. That’s the best way to understand it — it’s a bit hard to explain in words, since it doesn’t show anything outwardly.”

The stone is presented to him in Jonghyun’s open palm. Jinki stares at it as he tries to muster the nerve to pick it up. A magicked rock couldn’t kill him.

  
After a long moment, Jinki grabs the stone. Despite knowing that it’s magicked, he relaxes instantly when he encloses it in his palm. Somehow, holding it feels the same as standing beside Taemin. He could always picture Taemin in his mind easily, but the image is crystal clear, and the soft scent of willow that always carries in his hair is as obvious as if he were there. Though the stone is physically still, it seems to pulse in his hand, steady and unshaking.

Though he doesn’t understand, the magic gave him enough assurance to assuage his worries. Jinki passes the stone back to Jonghyun, searching his mind and all the languages he knows for a way to describe what he felt.

Jonghyun smiles at him, pride carrying all the way up to his cheeks.“See why it’s a bit hard to explain? There’s no real words for those feelings.”  
  


“I suppose so,” Jinki says. “Useful bit of magic.”

“Should I make a second one for you?” Jonghyun asks. “I assume you’ll be heading back to your clan, since Taemin isn’t here.”

Jinki chews on his lip. The journey back would likely be even further than he had walked that day. He knows the clan had set out west that morning.  
  
“I’m not sure…it’s become a longer walk, with the direction the clan is traveling now,” Jinki says. He would hate to come out here so late in the day for nothing. And though he hated to admit it, traveling alone at night rattled his nerves. “Is there a chance Taemin will be here in the next few days?”

“Probably. He’s been gone a day or two now.”

”You wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“Of course not,” Jonghyun says. “You usually stay when Taemin’s here, and anyone from the Lavellan clan is welcome to visit. Besides, I’ve just finished cooking.”

“I could use a meal,” Jinki admits. Even if he still wanted to avoid eating the mage’s cooking, he doesn’t think he could resist now. He’s too hungry after his walk through the woods, and the smell of stew he now notices is much more enticing than the prospect of the jerky in his travel bag.

“Great!” Jonghyun beams at him, then rushes to the stove. “I hope you don’t mind the dinner I’ve made. Since Taemin was gone, I made it a bit more to my taste, which means a lot of pepper.”

“That’s alright. A lot of food in Tevinter was heavily spiced.”

“Really? Taemin doesn’t like anything spicy I’ve made.” Jonghyun grimaces at his own remark the moment it leaves his mouth. “Though I suppose it makes sense that he wouldn’t like it, considering what the country was like for him…”

Jinki laughs and slips into one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table, resting his head on his hands to watch Jonghyun at the stove. “It’s not about that. He’s just always had a sensitive tongue.”

“A wonder he curses so much, then,” Jonghyun says, making Jinki laugh even harder.

The conversation delves into a discussion of their mutual bewilderment at Taemin’s mix of vulgarity and firm devotion to his religion, and by the time Jonghyun sets a bowl of stew in front of him, his stomach is aching from from a combination of laughter and hunger. After their meals are quickly eaten and cleaned up, Jonghyun returns to the table with a bottle and a glass.

Jinki’s eyes widen, and he has to fight the urge to lick his lips when Jonghyun opens the the sweet-smelling red wine and pours it into his glass. He hasn’t seen wine in ages.

Always on the move, his clan has no spare room for barrels to brew it in, and sees little value in trading for it when other goods are needed. The last time he had a proper drink was years ago, when a few bottles of wine had been given to them on accident in a chest of traded blankets. He had convinced Joonmyeon to drink them all with him in one night, and all he remembers of that is trying to hold Joonmyeon back from dancing on top of the Keeper’s aravel in the middle of the night.

The memory of the night makes him grin, and his throat itch for a drink. Being drunk would be better than being stuck with his sober thoughts. He likes Jonghyun well enough now, but the thought of spending a whole night alone with a human still unsettles his nerves.

He taps the bottle Jonghyun had placed on the table earlier. “Would you be willing to share your wine?”

Jonghyun puts down his glass, blinking at him at him in obvious surprise. “I thought the Dalish didn’t drink?” he shakes his head, correcting himself. “Or at least — I’ve never heard of the Dalish drinking alcohol. I’ve offered to trade some to your clan, since I’m able to brew some myself, and they always turned it down.”

“We don’t drink really, you’re right. It’s hard to make our own liquor on the move, and not worth trading for, especially since we tend to be lightweights,” Jinki says with a shrug. He stands to reach for one of the clean glasses left on the small counter by the window, then places it in front of Jonghyun with a grin. “But it’s not as if being a lightweight means I shouldn’t drink.”

“True.” Jonghyun grins at him and pours him a glass. “I can’t handle liquor well myself either, but I like the stuff still.”

Jinki crinkles his nose at the strength of the flavor. Having nothing but water and the occasional elfroot tea makes even the sweet wine seem overpowering.

“I should have warned you, this isn’t very good wine,” Jonghyun apologizes.

“It’ll do.” Jinki inhales, letting the taste sit in his mouth before he takes another drink. He already feels a pleasant buzz in his toes and hands.

“Ah, you know what we should have?” Jonghyun grins. His neck is already flushed as he raises his glass towards Jinki. “A toast. To Taemin’s health.”

Jinki blinks, feigning bewilderment, and Jonghyun wilts, arm coming down slowly from the air.

“Sorry, do you not — ?“ Jonghyun flusters. “I suppose if the Dalish don’t drink much, they might not give toasts, do they?”

“No, not really.” Jinki says, keeping his voice plainly factual. “When we want to honor someone, we usually tie the horns of a halla to their head and have them circle a tree three times. Or four, depending on the cycle of the moon. Raising a glass is actually quite offensive to the Creators.”

Jonghyun’s eyes widen briefly before he closes them in a hard blink, lips moving quickly as he sputters out an apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize —”

Jinki laughs into his glass at Jonghyun’s flustered attempt to recover from the imagined offense. He gives Jonghyun a wicked grin. “You humans will believe anything about the Dalish, won’t you?”

Pink crawls along Jonghyun’s face from his cheek to his ears as he realizes Jinki had tricked him. “I suppose we will believe anything.” he huffs. “But you are very mysterious — I don’t think I should be blamed for not knowing your customs.”

“No, probably not.” Jinki takes a long drink as Jonghyun works on regaining his composure. His embarrassment has deepened the soft dips at the corners of his lips, and it’s hard not to look at them when he’s pouting.

The wine is making me lose it, Jinki thinks, too warm from the alcohol to care about the direction of his thoughts. He’d hoped that the alcohol would numb the urge to look at Jonghyun, but it only makes him smile more at the human’s rambling.

“You would let me know if I actually did something offensive?” Jonghyun asks, suddenly serious. “Since I’ve lived alone so long, I’m afraid my manners aren’t the best. And Taemin is…not offended by much,” Jonghyun says. “jungah was never very talkative when she visited.”

“I don’t understand why you ask things like this…” Jinki mumbles, too drunk to avoid thinking aloud. He turns his thoughts to Jonghyun with a question. “Why are you so nice to us?”

“Us?”

“Me and Taemin — my clan — us,” Jinki waves his arms in a large circle for emphasis, then points at himself. “Elves.”

“I mean…” Jonghyun looks down. He takes a long pause to consider his words, deep in thought until his expression softens and he speaks. “It’s only right, isn’t it?”

Jinki frowns at the short answer. “Lots of things are right and people don’t do them. Lots of things are wrong and people do them, too.”

“If you want a deeper reason…” Jonghyun’s lips tighten, and he rubs at his wrists, circling his hand about the bone as if to protect it. “I’ve seen what being captive can do to people. And what people can do to you, when you have nowhere to go…” he swallows. “Anyone decent would be against that. Whether it’s slavery, an alienage, or a Circle.”

Jinki stares. A prick of guilt bites as his stomach as he turns over the words. Mages here were treated so differently than in Tevinter. Maybe he’d been unfair to treat Jonghyun with such distrust for so long, just because he was human and a mage.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shocking himself as the words leave his lips. Jonghyun looks equally confused, and he leans back, brows pinched together with confusion.

“Sorry, for…?”

“How I acted, after we first met.” Jinki bites his lip. He’s bad at apologies, but the buzz in his head certainly makes it come out easier. “I was rude to you, and accused you of things you never did, when you were only trying to help Taemin. I should have trusted his word that you’re good.”

“Well.” Jonghyun clears his throat. “I can hardly blame you. I imagine it’s the equivalent of me hating templars — and I still do, though I know they’re not all bad..”

Jinki hangs his head to hide his smile of relief at Jonghyun’s easy forgiveness.

“A drink to freedom from templars and Tevinter bastards—” Jonghyun lifts his drink, holding it over the table until Jinki raises his own. His eyes shine from the light on the table as he grins. “Unless that’s offensive?”

Jinki grins back. “Even if it was, I’ll take any excuse for another drink.” He clinks their mugs together and brings his own back to his lips. Over the rim of his glass, his gaze remains firmly caught on Jonghyun’s eyes, contemplating the warmth and kindness in them he’d somehow managed to avoid seeing before. When Jonghyun leans back in his seat and swallows a mouthful of wine, Jinki’s attention flicks down to his throat, hanging there for a pause before tracing the line of his collarbone to his shoulders and the casual drape of his hands over the back of his own seat.

The summer air thickens like sap around him when he realizes Jonghyun has noticed him staring.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jonghyun laughs. It’s nervous and thready, nothing like the ones they had been sharing earlier in the night. “Did I say something funny earlier? I know I can be a bit of a idealist….”

“What, am I not allowed to look at you?” Jinki huffs. The words are out of his mouth before he can hold them back. It’s too much like an admission, but his nerves twist into a pleasant knot as Jonghyun stares back at him.

“I never said that…” Jonghyun says, finally glancing away. Jinki can tell the flush on his cheeks is from more than alcohol.

“Thought so,” Jinki says, as if he’d won.

To his relief, Jonghyun is too embarrassed to comment on his strange behavior.But the air in the room is different now. Jinki almost regrets shooting the question back, but not enough to take it back. Doing that would almost give Jonghyun permission to tease out the reason he was looking, and in his current drunken state he doesn’t trust the filter between his mouth and his head enough to refrain from saying something about the mage’s nice hands and pretty nose.

 _Creators._ He exhales loudly, downing the last of his drink when he catches his own thoughts. He thinks the _shem_ has a pretty nose.


	4. Chapter 4

Jinki wakes up with a groan. He squints at the high wooden ceiling above him in confusion, expecting the close and narrow roof of an aravel or the open sky until it sinks in that he’s still at Jonghyun’s cabin. He covers his eyes to protect them from the light streaming in the window and sits up, kicking the sheets off of him into a messy pile at the end of the cot to squint towards Jonghyun’s bed, where the mage is reading. “Taemin isn’t back yet?”

“No, not yet.” Jonghyun’s brows pinch together. “I keep checking the stone I made, and his health seems to be good. I think he’ll stay in town a bit longer. I didn’t realize it, but I think it’s Summerday, and I imagine he’s trying to rope himself into helping the Chantry with the festivities. He’s a very devout Andrastian.”

Jinki sighs. “That he is.”

Jonghyun slips a strip of leather into his book and sets it aside, standing with a long stretch that makes Jinki all too aware of how short his cotton shirt is. “Since you’re up now, I ought to do my morning gardenwork.”

Looking away, Jinki runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “I hope I didn’t hold you up. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“You didn’t make me wait.” Jonghyun pulls on the mud-covered boots he’d left by the door. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t have a hangover, since you said you don’t drink often. Do you need tea or anything?”

The concern in Jonghyun’s eyes makes him flush. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Glad to hear it.” Jonghyun smiles. “I’ll be outside, then.”

The door shuts behind him, leaving Jinki to decide if he wants to follow. Half of him wants to go back to sleep, but that would be rude when Jonghyun is already up and working. With a long sigh, he forces himself out of bed to the pail of fresh water by the kitchen to wash his face and steal a drink to quell the stale aftertaste of wine in his throat.

By the time he makes it outside, Jonghyun is already on his knees in the dirt, hands wrapped around a plant with large, glossy leaves and red berries. There’s a soft glow of magic to his hold, but not enough to deter Jinki from approaching.

Stepping out from the cabin’s shadow, Jinki shades his eyes and heads towards the garden. Jonghyun releases the plant and ends the spell just when Jinki reaches the wooden fence. “You want help today?”

“I appreciate the offer, but no.” Jonghyun says, quickly releasing the plant to end the spell. “I need to care for the prophet’s laurel personally. Growing it in summer when we’ve had so little rain takes…a delicate touch.”

Jinki raises a brow. “And you’re saying I lack that?”

“No, I’m sure you have one.” The tips of Jonghyun’s ears go pink as he realizes what he’d said, and he rushes to correct himself. “What I mean is, you’re just used to using your hands to kill things, skin them, and all that — I’m trying to make these plants grow. It’s quite a bit different.”

“Fair enough.” Jinki’s lip quirks. Sitting himself on a post of the small fence enclosing Jonghyun’s garden, he kicks his feet against the loose soil and watches as Jonghyun continues his daily work. The predictableness of his routine had amused Jinki the first time he noticed it. As always, Jonghyun had started at the left side of the garden and worked his way down methodically, tending one-by-one to the perfect rows of vegetables. Next, he cares for the herbs, hands gentle as he inspects each with a small sniff and narrowed eyes.

Jonghyun’s teeth sink into his lip as he fumbles with the cupped petals of a crystal grace. Tilting it forward, he reaches inside the flower with his small knife and cuts off the bright pink stem shooting out of the center and packs it into one of the open jars in his basket. He quickly does the same with the rest of the flowers, hands moving with more sureness as he loses himself in the task.

Without Jonghyun’s usual rambling, there’s little else to do but watch. The sun glistens against the sweat collected on Jonghyun’s cheeks. His lips twitch as he remembers what Taemin said about humans smelling bad in summer. Was it the sweat that made the smell? Or just a general human scent? He couldn’t imagine that Jonghyun would smell strange, or he would have noticed by now. Maybe the smell was covered up by the herbs he worked with in the garden. He probably smelled like whatever he was growing that week — sweet and light like crystal grace, or earthy like elfroot.

The train of thought leads nowhere, and Jinki stops it the moment he realizes it’s begun.

Out of boredom — and not because Jonghyun’s thin shirt is now clinging to him with a tightness that makes it hard to look away — Jinki shifts around on the post to face the cabin.

He’d never looked at it much when Taemin was here; he’d been too busy catching up. But it’s well built, more than he would expect for some apostate’s hideout in the woods. There are few gaps among the wooden planks on the side and only the creak of the door as a sign of its age. Half-finished carvings of decorative spirals mark two corners of the house.

Jinki turns to talk to Jonghyun over his shoulder. “You didn’t build this cabin yourself, did you? It’s solidly built.”

“No, I had no hand in it.” Jonghyun laughs. “I was lucky enough to find the cabin when I was on the run from the templars. The weather was awful, and I needed shelter — I’m not sure if you were in the Free Marches yet, but there was a spring where every other day had a thunderstorm. The cabin was empty when I arrived, save a few papers and other things, so I thought I’d wait the season out there. I thought the owner would come back eventually, but they didn’t, so…” he shrugs and shakes dirt off of his hands. “I stayed.”

“It looks like whoever built it didn’t finish the decorations they wanted on it,” Jinki observes. “It’s a shame, when it’s such a nice cabin.”

“The last person here thought so too,” Jonghyun says. When Jinki looks at him oddly, Jonghyun explains.  “When no one showed up, I started to read the journals they left behind. One of them was the owner’s diary. Her lover built the place, but they parted before she finished the carvings. I’m sure it would look gorgeous if she had finished them — she was obviously talented, and had a good vision of what she wanted. There were sketches of her plans in the cabin.”

“Can I see them?” Jinki asks, trying not to seem overly eager. It’s been so long since he’s gotten to carve anything. As generous as the Lavellan clan had been to take him in, they hadn’t allowed him to help with woodworking for anything more than making his own bows and dagger hilts.

“Sure, if you’d like that. Let me clean my hands first, so I don’t muck them up with soil.”

Jinki nods and waits. He manages to keep the impatient tap of his foot suppressed until Jonghyun is back in the cabin and shuffling loudly through the boxes and chests. After a small a-ha! of triumph, the door swings open, and a book as long as Jonghyun’s torso is pushed into his arms.

The paper within the leather-bound covers is worn at the edges and wrinkled, but the penciled illustrations are still clear enough for him to make out the intent of the illustrator. Jinki thumbs carefully through the pages, nodding along as the vision the original owner of the cabin had for decoration begins to take shape in his mind. The patterns are simple enough — rounded curving spirals at the corner posts of the cabin, a plain carving of the sun and moon for the door, and etched lines for its frame.

“This should be simple enough. I can do the door and its frame easily.” Jinki says. He keeps his finger in the book to mark the page he needs and closes the books. “Do you have the tools for it? I didn’t bring mine with me.”

“There are still tools, yes. I kept them in good condition, just in case I wanted to give it a shot one day….” Jonghyun smiles. “I didn’t realize you had any tradeskills. Are you really going to do it?”

“Not much better to do while I wait for Taemin, is there?” Jinki shrugs. He doesn’t want Jonghyun to think he’s doing him a favor just because he trusts him now.

“I suppose not.” Jonghyun purses his lips, but the expression doesn’t hide the delight in his eyes. “I’ll grab the tools for you, and the step ladder I have.”

Jonghyun is back shortly with a box. Jinki picks his way through the container, pushing aside cloth bags of spare nails and hinges until he finds a fine set of carving tools.

Smiling to himself, he finds a seat beside the bottom of the doorframe, deciding it best to start on the simplest etchings. His skills are rusty — the last time he carved a design was months ago, for a small gift to Hyoyeon  — and it wouldn’t do for him to ruin such a well-built cabin with overeagerness to get back to intricate designs.

At first, his hands are clumsy. The tool he begins with is larger than the ones the clan shares, and feels unwieldy in his hands. He frowns in concentration until he adjusts to the extra weight. The discomfort strips away, and he falls back into carving like a familiar embrace, not moving even when Jonghyun slips inside for a moment to grab a book.

He’s finished the carvings most of the way up the left side of the frame and is on the ladder.when he realizes Jonghyun is standing beneath him. A sudden dizziness hits him when he looks away from his work, and he braces himself on the door, blinking down at Jonghyun as he regains his senses. He doesn’t even know how long Jonghyun’s been standing there.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

“I’ve brought you some water.” Jonghyun says, holding it up to him.“Spelled it to stay cool, too — you look like you could need that.”

Jinki stares at the offered flask, hand frozen mid-reach as he stops himself from grabbing it.

“Oh.” Jonghyun pulls it back, cheeks flushed with the realization of his error. He uncorks the top, heading over to the herb garden to pour out the water. “Sorry, I didn’t think of it — I’ll dump it out and get you something else. A new container, too—”

“No, it’s alright.” Jinki reaches back out for the flask. “I’ll take it.”

Jonghyun blinks up at him, obviously shocked, but passes it over wordlessly. A buzz travels up his palm when their fingers brush that Jinki wishes he could blame on magic.

Pulse thrumming in his ears, Jinki flexes his fingers and pops opens the lid of the flask before bringing it to his lips.

The water immediately sends a pleasant chill through him. He sighs once with relief, then takes another long and greedy drink to empty the canteen, not minding the water that drips down over his lips and chin when he pulls it quickly away with a sigh. “Thank you. That was more refreshing than I expected.”

“You’re welcome.” Jonghyun looks at him, a hesitant smile on his lips as if he were torn between shock and amusement. “Let me know if you want any more. It hardly takes any energy to make ice.”

“I will.” Jinki wipes his brow and squints up at the sky. The sun is about midway through the sky, and he’s nearly done with what he’d promised. At his current pace, he could finish the carvings on the trim by late afternoon, which would leave him enough daylight to get started on his walk back to the clan.

He frowns and shakes out the stiffness in his hands. A part of him doesn’t want to finish.

Glancing over his shoulder, he sees that Jonghyun has already returned to the shade of one of the large trees at the edge of the clearing with a book on herbs and a journal for notes. The look of contentment on his face shifts something in Jinki’s chest, and when he turns back to the doorframe, he purposefully slows the pace of his work.

***

The plain wood of the cabin floor is washed to a golden glow from the sunset. Jonghyun hovers over a battered iron pan on the counter as he stuffs potatoes and herbs around the slab of venison at the center of it. A thin layer of smoke from the crooked door of the brick oven traps the sweet scent of the burning hickory. Jinki breathes it in as he leans back in one of the wooden chairs by the table, enjoying the moment of rest for his hands after the long day of carving.

“It’s getting late. Will you be heading back to your clan today?” Jonghyun asks. His hands are busy with dinner preparations when he glances over his shoulder to Jinki, but his eyes are too honest to hide the answer he wants.

Jinki ignores the look while he pretends to think it over. He already knows that he wants to stay another night. The time alone with Jonghyun had rid him of a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying in all the time he’s spent with his clan. He doesn’t have to bite back the few distinctively Tevene phrases that still slip out from his tongue. Here, alone with the mage in the woods, he has nothing to prove. And Jonghyun makes for good company. His tendency to babble fills up the silences.

“You said Taemin might be back tomorrow, didn’t you? I thought I’d stay another night and see if he returns.” Jinki shrugs. He hadn’t planned on informing Jonghyun of his intent unless asked. That would be too close to admitting he’d wanted to stay.

“Good thing I planned for feeding two tonight, then,” Jonghyun says. A smile escapes his lips that Jinki can’t help returning. The mage is too damn honest. “Help me with clean up, then? This mess will attract bugs quickly, and I want to get this into the oven as soon as I can.”

“Of course.” Jinki stands with a small groan at the soreness in his knees. He reaches over the counter for the tattered kitchen rag that had been drying on the windowsill, arm brushing against Jonghyun’s with a small apology. _“Ir abelas_.”

“It’s alright.” Jonghyun says quickly. His shoulders tense, but his cheeks flush, as if the sun from the afternoon had just now reached his skin.

Jinki takes his time in wetting the rag with the nearby pail, noting how the tension in Jonghyun’s posture remains when he starts to wipe down the wooden surface where Jonghyun had cut the apple. The knowledge that his proximity affects the mage sends a strange buzz up his spine. He tests the idea with a smile, humming to himself again as he circles the rag closer to where Jonghyun is putting the last touches on the dish. The nearer he gets, the more Jonghyun looks as if he’s holding his breath.

He’s enjoying it too much not to linger even after the juice is well cleaned up. Setting the rag back at the window, he leans against the counter watch to as Jonghyun inserts thin slices of apple into slits cut along the the venison. His fingers press in the pieces with a gentleness that makes Jinki wonder how he’d ever found the mage threatening. His wrists are careful and delicate, but move with a sureness that betrays his fixation on the smallest details.

“You’re lingering.” Jonghyun laughs softly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “Worried I’ll ruin dinner?”

“No, just looking at what you have up here,” Jinki says, then runs his eyes along the counter to make his excuse not quite a lie. His attention is immediately drawn to a tall and wide bottle with a worn label reading Markham Mead at the end of a row of flasks.

Unable to resist, Jinki reaches for the bottle and holds it up. “Are we having this with our meal?”

Jonghyun’s eyebrows raise in a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You want to drink again? We had a whole bottle of wine last night.”

Jinki grins. “I love the Dalish dearly, but we’re lacking in good spirits.”

Jonghyun laughs and shakes his head, but gestures for Jinki to pop the cork. “You’re going to drink me out of everything I own, and you’ve only stayed two days.”

“Oh, I’m sure Taemin will come back with more.”

“You’re probably right about that.” Jonghyun sighs. He carries the pan to the oven and pushes it inside as Jinki pours them drinks. “I told him to stay away from alcohol while he was sick, but now…? I know how much he loves taverns. I can’t imagine what he’s up to.”

“Not sure I want to.” Jinki takes a sip of his mead, letting the warmth of the drink drown out the pinch of worry in his gut. From the stories Taemin had shared of his time in Antiva, he has a feeling that his night could end up with him drunk and in someone else’s bed.

“He’s fine now, I’m sure.” Jonghyun wipes his hands on a spare rag. He picks up the enchanted pink stone he had made to sense Taemin’s health from his desk, turning it over in his hand as he slips into a chair at the kitchen table with his drink. “I can feel that he’s doing well. I’m only worried how a hangover might impact his physical strength.”

Wanting to verify Jonghyun’s words for himself, Jinki holds out his hand grasps the stone when Jonghyun passes it to him. He senses Taemin’s presence immediately. A warm burst of joy that brings to his mind an image of Taemin’s smile fills his stomach and erases his worries. “So he is. Hopefully he’ll drink in moderation tonight.”

“I’m not sure he knows the word…” Jonghyun grumbles, taking a long swallow of his drink.

Jinki laughs and drinks from his own mug as if to echo the statement. The taste lingers sweetly in his mouth, and he looks down in surprise to realize he’s already downed half of what he’d poured. He’s drinking too fast on an empty stomach. He’ll likely make a fool of himself as he did last night, but that should be alright. Jonghyun would receive anything he said with understanding, and the buzz already running through his body is too pleasant for him to bother with slowing down.

It makes it easy to talk to Jonghyun, especially after his second glass. When Jonghyun burns himself on the pan and swears, Jinki only snickers and repeats the same swear in Tevene, then in elven before beginning to list off all of the curses he knows. After a brief hesitation, Jonghyun joins him, flushing as he explains the meaning of some Antivan phrases Taemin had taught him and others he had learned from mages in the Circle who had come from cities far away. By the time dinner is done, they have a list of curses that could span an entire book and Jinki is giggling at the thought of Taemin finding out what “ _fenedhis lasa_ ” truly means.

Jinki doesn’t hesitate when Jonghyun sets a plate in front of him. He cuts off a piece as quickly as he can for the first bite of the venison, almost moaning at the sweetness that had been absorbed into the meat from the apples. His clan rarely bothers with the fruit except to eat it fresh, and having the flavor cooked into the meat makes for a rich taste he hasn’t experienced in ages.

“Is it good?” Jonghyun asks, head tilted down as he waits for Jinki’s approval.

Jinki’s already cut another large piece off and placed it in his mouth, but it doesn’t stop him from praising the meal. “Delicious.”

“I’m relieved.” Jonghyun sighs. “I was worried I put too much apple in it — this is more than I usually do — but Taemin said you had a sweet tooth.”

Jinki tilts his head teasingly. “You asked him what I like?”

“No — I didn’t, not really.” Jonghyun’s protest is almost too quick for Jinki to believe it. “I just remember he’d mentioned it.”

“If you wanted to do something special for me, you should’ve made me a pie with the apples.” Jinki taps his fingers along the edge of Jonghyun’s plate, suddenly filled with the desire to fluster him further. “That would certainly get you on my good side.”

“I’m still too nervous to approach a town for the ingredients I lack, knowing templars are searching for mages everywhere now…” Jonghyun trails off, lost in his thoughts for a moment before looking up with complete seriousness. “But if you can fetch me the ingredients, I’d be happy to.”

“You would?” Jinki grins, too drunk to hide his delight. “I’ll bring anything you need. I hope halla butter works as well as regular butter.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that different,” Jonghyun says. “And I’m willing to try.”

“ _Mythal'enaste_ , thank you“, Jinki says. “The clan sometimes trades for pastries when we stop near _shem_ cities, but those are always days old.” Jinki scrunches his nose. “Not nearly the same as fresh-baked pie.”

“Pastries are meant to be fresh,” Jonghyun agrees. “I haven’t had one in a year or so myself, so I’d enjoy it as well.”

Jinki hums an agreement, now too focused on his food to continue the conversation. He manages to finish his meat and potatoes in a short minute, leaving him with only the apples on his plate. The thought of a fresh-baked pie lingers on his mind as he picks out the apple pieces.

Jonghyun watches him clean his fingers with a raised brow and a small smile. “I think you should slow down on the liquor, Jinki. At least until your stomach’s more full.”

“Mm.” Jinki rests his head on the table when Jonghyun takes away his plate. It helps stop the room from spinning, at least temporarily. He hums the old Tevene song flitting through his head and looks about the room as if for the first time, taking in the small trinkets and books with a mind to understand Jonghyun.

He knows from the neatness of Jonghyun’s cabin and watching him cook that he never leaves anything out that isn’t in use. The aravel he shared with Joonmyeon during storms and the cold season is less than a quarter of a size of Jonghyun’s cabin and packed with even fewer things, yet they never managed to keep it as tidy as his dwelling. Even his bedroll back in the slave quarters at Tevinter was stuffed with stray parchment and books he had borrowed from the magister’s study.

Jinki’s eyes stop on the cot at the end of Jonghyun’s bed that Taemin uses whenever Jinki visits, and he frowns in confusion.

“Why do you still bother leaving that extra cot out?” Jinki asks. “I know about you and Taemin, you know…”

Jonghyun pulls out the chair nearest Jinki and joins him back at the table and sits down. “What?”

“I know.” Jinki repeats, as if that explains it, and Jonghyun only stares at him harder. “That you two had…something. That you sleep together.”

“Oh.” Jonghyun turns red. “Well — we don’t have anything, really, not since he’s gotten back. He told me to hide any hint of it, though, because you would be upset. But it doesn’t bother you?”

“It did, at first. You seem to have been good to him, though.” Jinki pours himself another drink to occupy himself. The flush the topic had brought to Jonghyun’s cheeks looks distractingly good on him, and without a drink to concentrate on, it would be too easy to stare. “As odd as I find it…a _shem_ and an elf…I can’t say I’m opposed anymore.”

Jonghyun looks away from him pointedly. He downs the rest of his mead in an obvious attempt to buy himself time, brows furrowing. “Thank you, I think? It was never anything serious, though. If you were worried about that.”

“I figured,” Jinki mumbles. His eyes are fixed on Jonghyun’s pursed lips, pink and shining, as he continues to suffer with the aftermath of his too-long drink. Jinki puts his elbows on the table and leans closer, curiosity at how a human and an elf might fit together tumbling through his head. “How did it happen?”

“Me and Taemin?” Jonghyun asks. Jinki nods.

“Well, you know — um —” Jonghyun laughs nervously. “He came here after leaving — being pushed from — your clan. He stayed for a while, as he planned out where he wanted to go and mapped out the area…I told him about where I’m from, to help him, and we got to talking over a few days. I was a bit lonely, and he noticed that. We were alone in the cabin, so, naturally…” he gestures vaguely, too shy to say the words.

Jinki lifts his glass to take a long drink of the mead. He licks away the fruity aftertaste from his lips, and the heat left behind still enters his voice. “Like we are?”

“A bit like that.” Jonghyun flushes.

It’s a pretty look on him, Jinki thinks, and he’s drunk enough that he only cares about seeing more.   “Are you still lonely?”

“If I say yes, will you accuse me of forcing Taemin to stay again?” Jonghyun asks. The question is sharp, but there’s no bite to his tone. When Jinki only stares, he scratches the back of his neck and looks up at the ceiling to escape Jinki’s gaze with a light sigh. “I’m deflecting, I know. I never talk about it, because there’s nothing that can be done about it. I’m too frightened of being caught to visit any town with a decent-sized Chantry. And it’s not as if people randomly wander through the woods often, so trade with your clan and the occasional human visitor is most of the contact I get.” Eyes slightly glassy, he takes a deep breath before his next words. “So yes, I’m still lonely.”

Me too, Jinki wants to say. And he does, wordlessly, when his hand covers Jonghyun’s on the table. He thinks of Taemin leaving, and of the place he has in the clan, how he fits in but also doesn’t quite, because there are still stares and he never hears the first language he’d learned.

When he looks up, he expects Jonghyun to meet his eyes with a question, but all he receives is a stare. Long and deep, with too much understanding of isolation and captivity, and with expectations behind it.

The silence of the cabin sits firm in his chest. The weight of it drags him forward. He watches as Jonghyun’s eyes travel, off-guard and fascinated, down his face to the thin line of his vallaslin that cuts down his bottom lip. When Jonghyun looks up, he does it through his lashes, nervous and inviting all at once. Jinki’s heart stirs. He cups Jonghyun’s cheek and presses his lips against Jonghyun’s, slowly, testing, unsure of every movement he makes as his head buzzes and his heart thuds louder in his ears. Even though he had kissed Taemin only weeks ago, this feels different — a spark that makes him risk running his tongue along the seam of Jonghyun’s lips though he knows he tastes of liquor and too much fruit.  

As if he’d been waiting, Jonghyun yields to him. And it’s thrilling — his stomach knots up and warms all at once, and his body is pressing forward before he can even notice the tightness crawling up his throat. Hands clutch at his shoulders, and he likes it, even breathes into it, but then they move down, slipping under his arms to rest at his waist with firm fingers — fingers that could leave marks and hold him still and force him to the floor —

Jinki’s eyes widen, and he pulls back, freezing with his vision fixed on the cabin wall behind Jonghyun’s shoulder.  

“W-we don’t have to stop,” Jonghyun breathes, misreading everything, chest heaving with every intake of air. “I’m not that drunk.”

Jinki’s lips press in a thin line. He can’t say he wants to, or that he doesn’t want to — his chest is hollow again, and he’s too afraid of what Jonghyun would do with such an open refusal. Instead, he reaches down and grips both of Jonghyun’s wrists to set them away.

“I’m tired,” he says, grateful for the numbness that keeps the shake out of his voice.

“I-it is late, isn’t it?” Jonghyun tries to laugh, but it comes out as an ugly croak. His eyes dart nervously away from Jinki, cheeks still colored with pink when he stands. “I’ll put out the lights. If you want the bed for a change, you can —”

Jinki shakes his head. His whole body is alert, every item and nook of the cabin buzzing sharply in relief to his senses. There’s no point in taking the bed, when he’s not certain he’ll be able to sleep. He forces himself to his feet and paces to the small cot in the corner. “I’ll take my usual spot.”

“…Alright.”

As Jinki slips under the worn sheets, he feels Jonghyun watching him worriedly, but ignores it. The phantom sensation of large hands on his stomach and hips is taking his breath from his lungs, and he can’t bring himself to acknowledge Jonghyun’s concern when he knows at any moment he could be pitched back into a memory he wanted to forget.

With a wave of Jonghyun’s hand, the lamplight vanishes. “Let me know if you need anything.”

***

Jinki wakes with the first light of dawn. His head barely aches, and his stomach has none of the sickness to it he would expect from a hangover. The lack of discomfort should be a relief, but what that means about the previous night rattles his thoughts when he remembers it: kissing Jonghyun couldn’t be blamed entirely on the drink. The same was true for Jonghyun. His lips had barely even tasted of alcohol—

His chest tightens. _I need to get out of here._

He lifts himself silently in his cot and looks over to the bed. Jonghyun is splayed out over the mattress on his back, chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of sleep. The blankets have been kicked off of his body into a disheveled bundle by his feet that hangs half off the bed. The bottle of mead they had opened the night before has found a new spot on the bedside table and is emptier than he remembers. Jonghyun must have drank more of it after Jinki fell asleep.

The sight pulls at Jinki when he slips out of bed. Jonghyun had stayed in yesterday morning to make sure he wasn’t sick from drinking, and if he wanted to be decent, he should do the same.

He shakes off the thought when he reaches the door, grabbing his bow and daggers before he can hesitate a moment longer. The mage will be fine. Jonghyun can handle himself. Even the worst healer could ease a hangover.

Slipping outside silently is easy on bare feet. He reenters the woods with only a mind for the trees around him and lets his thoughts float away from him as he walks in a wide circle around the clearing of Jonghyun’s cabin. The songs of awakening birds lift a bit of the heaviness in his chest.

Only when the sun has lifted itself enough to illuminate most of the forest does he stop for a breath. Still wanting something familiar, he unfastens his bow and strings it, glowering at it when he’s forced to make several attempts.

His hands are shaking when he notches the arrow, but he draws back the string anyway, aiming for the knot on a tree in the distance before letting it fly. He grits his teeth when it flies far left of his target, but draws another, seeking the automatic motion of shooting until he’s worked through a third of his quiver.

Only two arrows found their mark. He scowls at them, as if their success had damned the others, and trudges to where the strays had landed to retrieve them.

Of course he’d have to think of that blighted hunt that Taemin suggested that he go on with Jonghyun. When he finally has them all back, he rests his head against the nearest tree and tries to decide where to go. He could return to the clan — but then the awkwardness of dealing with Jonghyun would be put off, and he’d be left thinking about how to handle it for days. And he wouldn’t want to miss Taemin if he returned.

Sighing deeply, Jinki puts away his bow and determines to head back to the cabin. Jonghyun should be finishing up his gardening work now, and it will be easy to see if he’s still alone without being noticed.

***

When he arrives back, the garden is empty. Taemin is sitting outside the cabin with three bottles of wine — one already opened — and an ear-splitting grin. “Didn’t expect to see you, Jinki. Jonghyun said you left for the clan this morning.”

“I was only going for a walk,” Jinki lies. He glances around the clearing, trying not to appear worried. “Where’s Jonghyun?”

“Inside. He said he had a headache and the sunlight hurt.” Taemin reaches for the open bottle and takes a drink, lips coming off with a loud pop when he pulls it back. “I still can’t believe he drank so much without me. Me being sick was probably just an excuse to hog it to himself.”

“I doubt he’d do that,” Jinki says.

Taemin laughs and stands. “Probably not. He’s too nice.” Jinki stumbles when Taemin hooks their arms together to drag him forward. “But let’s go in, I want to tell you about all the things I got to do while I was gone, and I don’t want to have to tell the same story twice.”

He grimaces at the force behind Taemin’s pull, hoping the expression will hide his nervousness as the door draws closer. His breath smells like the Antivan wine in the bottle he carries. “Should you really be drinking in the morning?”

Taemin shrugs and pushes open the door. “I got the thirsty on the walk back, and lost my water flask. Figured some liquid was better than none.”

Jinki manages a small laugh, but his amusement at Taemin’s early tipsiness is cut short by the sight of Jonghyun sitting up in his bed with an unopened book. His brow tenses when he looks up from his lap at Jinki. There’s bags under his eyes that Jinki’s never seen before, and the small dips that sit on either side of his lips have deepened.

“Morning.” Jinki says.

A half-beat of confusion, followed by a pang of something else, passes over Jonghyun’s face, just long enough to stir the confusing swirl of guilt in Jinki’s stomach before his usual smile replaces the expression. “Morning, Jinki. I didn’t realize you’d be coming back. I’m sorry I told Taemin you’d left.”

Jinki shrugs stiffly, forcing Taemin’s hand away with the motion. “I just took a short walk before you were up.”

“Ah.”

Jinki bites the inside of his cheek. If he had any doubts or hopes that Jonghyun had forgotten last night, his shortness had taken them away now.

Thankfully, Taemin is oblivious to the tension. He swings between them, tripping over his feet until he slumps onto the end of the bed.

“Now that everyone’s here…” Taemin trails off to take long drink of the wine in his hand, and Jonghyun crinkles his nose in distaste. “I want to tell you what happened while I was away. I met this lovely Rivaini woman in a tavern. She took me to this secret part of Ansburg—”

“Wait,” Jonghyun interrupts. “You went all the way to Ansburg?”

Jinki cuts after him. “Taemin, are you serious?”

“Yes, I did.” A proud smile widens Taemin’s lips. “It was only a day or two further than the village I said I was visiting. And the taverns there were so much better. The chantry was gorgeous, too.”

Jonghyun’s eyes meet Jinki’s with an exasperation mirrors that his own. It lasts for all of two seconds before he turns quickly away, a dent in his brow and a slight questioning part of his lips the only sign it had occurred.

“Andraste’s ass, you two act like mother hens!” Taemin groans. “It was fine. I’m fine. That little stone told you that the whole time I was gone, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did,” Jonghyun mumbles.

“So, you don’t need to worry.” Taemin takes a moment to glare at them both, and takes another drink before he continues. “So, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted…”

The story is a long one involving a questionably legal nug-selling network and an abandoned wine cellar the mentioned Riviani woman had lock-picked their way into, and Taemin’s narration is drawn out by his drunkenness and Jinki’s occasional hisses of worry. Perhaps because Jonghyun is on the bed with Taemin, and Jinki is far away, only his mumbled disapproval of Taemin’s choice of inn earns a response.

“You can’t tell me you’d disapprove of _that_ inn, Jonghyun.” Taemin teases. There’s something in his voice that makes the back of Jinki’s neck heat. “You told me you went there once for a game of Wicked Grace and ended up losing more than just your coin.”

Jinki’s hands tighten around his knee as he watches Taemin’s fingers crawl towards Jonghyun’s hip. Jonghyun snakes away as if he had meant to stand at just that moment, the only indication that he had noticed a nervous glance at Jinki and an awkward smile.

“I need to go outside to get some herbs, since I skipped gardening today,” Jonghyun says, voice heavy with an obvious lump in his throat. His face is entirely red. “I will only be a few minutes down at the stream. I just need some elfroot for a potion, and then some for a salve, and the dawn lotus I’ve been putting in the soup, I think it helps with regaining strength…”

“Should I come with?” Jinki offers before he can think.

“No, you can stay here with Taemin.” Jonghyun says. “Someone should keep an eye on him, since he’s been out so much. The stream isn’t far, but I’m a bit worried his short journey will catch up with him.”

Taemin huffs. “I’m fine, Jonghyun. I walked all the way to Ansburg without losing my breath. Only my legs are sore.”

Jonghyun stares him down. “That you pushed yourself so far is what worries me. You said you were stopping in a town outside of it, not going all the way there.”

“It was just a slight change of plans, and I really…” Taemin trails off when Jonghyun’s glare sharpens, then sighs. “Fine. I’ll rest.”

“Good.” Jonghyun draws himself up and adjusts the belt of his robes. It’s a flimsy attempt to regain his dignity after Taemin’s slip about the inn, but he manages it with a straight face.  “I’ll be out, then. Feel free to use anything you need while I’m gone.”

“Maker guide you,” Taemin says, snickering at his own formality.

That earns him a glare, and Jinki feels the need to intervene. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him drink anymore. He’s had enough today.”

“He certainly has,” Jonghyun says. With a quick nod to Jinki, he pulls on his boots and heads out the door.

The second the door swings shut, Taemin falls against the bed and sprawls out to take up the space where Jonghyun had been sitting. “He won’t sleep with me now, even though I’m feeling better…” Taemin sighs, and Jinki isn’t sure if he’s talking to him or the ceiling. “I suppose he’s just lost interest, which is fine. But it’s made my wandering itch even worse.”

Jinki’s throat tightens, and he has to force himself to sound disinterested when he prys. “You tried to sleep with him again?”

“This morning, yeah. I was feeling pretty damn good since I know I’ll be fine to travel soon and I’m obviously a bit tipsy.” Taemin grins to himself for a short moment, then sits up suddenly with wide and guilty eyes. “Shit — I probably shouldn’t talk about that, should I?”

“No, it’s fine.” The tips of Jinki’s ears burn, and his hands have formed into fists to fight down the nettling of what he could only call jealousy in his gut. Would Jonghyun refuse whatever he could have with Taemin because of a kiss? Or was it just because it’d been years?

Taemin leans towards him with narrowed eyes. “I feel like you know something I don’t.”

“Why would I know something about the mage that you don’t?” Jinki snaps. He hopes the strain in his voice sounds more annoyed than defensive. “I only speak to him since he’s caring for you.”

“Mm, really? I thought you were getting along now.” Taemin glares at him sharply.  “Wait, you didn’t threaten him again, did you? If you’re interfering with who I sleep with, I’ll have you know—”

“No,” Jinki laughs lightly. “I know better than to get involved in your business now.”

“Good. It’s about time.” Taemin falls back against the bed with a small huff.

Jinki joins him and looks over to find his eyes are already half-closed. The silence of the cabin as Taemin drifts rapidly from indignance to drink-induced sleepiness is less comforting than the peace of the woods, but it’s better than hearing Jonghyun’s voice. Or anything about him.

The last thing Jinki needs is to be forced to think about the mage, when his mind is already drowning in thoughts of the previous night.

***

The next time Jinki visits, Taemin is taking an afternoon nap, leaving Jinki alone outside the cabin with Jonghyun.

“You know, I was thinking we should go hunting again,” Jonghyun says. “Taemin would probably appreciate a full meal as a send-off, and we can dry any leftovers for him to take with him.”

Jinki’s stomach sinks. “You think he’s leaving that soon?”

“He’s been poring over some maps he bought in Ansberg the past few days. Already talking about how he’ll be able to make better ones, of course…”

“Of course,” Jinki agrees with a small smile. Taemin always had been prideful of his skill in mapmaking, and Jinki had been glad to find that had stayed the same.

“So — do you want to go hunting with me, or no?” Jonghyun fidgets with his sleeve. “You know I won’t go alone.”

“Yes, I remember,” Jinki says, choosing deliberately to avoid Jonghyun’s question as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

Going would mean being alone with Jonghyun for the first time since their last night of drinking — since he had kissed the _shem_ mage, on some strange impulse, just because he had looked pretty and kind in the candlelight. Jonghyun hadn’t mentioned it once. Whether that was because of Taemin’s return to the cabin, or because he was embarrassed at being turned down for something more than a kiss, Jinki couldn’t be sure.

Nothing’s really changed. It would be easy to pretend it had never happened at all, if he could just stop thinking about it.

“Well, no worry if you’re not up for it, I’m a bit tired,” Jonghyun says, falsely cheerful. He stands and brushes pollen off his knees. “I know you’ve been having to walk further to visit, now that your clan’s moving eastward for the warmer months. Maybe I can find something to trade with your clan for some of your dried meat?”

“No, I’ll go with you.” Jinki stands. “I’d like to get Taemin something before he goes, and I know he would reject anything useful my clan has made.”

Jonghyun blinks. The soft frown he’d done a poor job of hiding lifts instantly from his lips. “You will? I’ll get my things then.”

Same as the last time they hunted together, Jonghyun returns from the cabin in breeches with his staff fixed to his back. Only this time Jinki is drawn to notice how they hug neatly around his hips and how his sleeves cut just after his elbows, leaving his tan forearms visible when he fixes a bag to his side and his staff to his back.

Jinki turns quickly to the forest. “Let’s go. I want to be back before he wakes up.”

The sound of boots following him into the trees is as welcome as it is disconcerting. He can feel Jonghyun’s eyes on his back, and see the questions in the brow beneath his tousled hair from the corner of his eye whenever he makes a turn. The back of his neck prickles from the attention. Does Jonghyun have to stare at him like that? If he’d gotten involved with Taemin, he should be able to take a kiss lightly.

His thumb pushes against empty air when he tries to thumb the familiar carvings of his bow grip for reassurance, and he blinks, only now realizing he had walked ahead into the woods without taking the bow from his back and stringing it.

Red-faced, he stops. “Hold on a moment.”

He unfastens the bow from his back and reaches for the string stored at his hip. The lack of surprise on Jonghyun’s face tells him that he’d been confused why Jinki hadn’t strung it yet, and the flush on his cheeks deepens.

He’s wasn’t staring at me, Jinki tells himself. He’s probably wondering what kind of fool would go on a hunt without a ready bow.

The realization makes him frown. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. When he adjusts his gloves and looks up from his bow, Jonghyun is still staring at it, brows furrowed together in thought.

“Fascinated by my bow?” Jinki jokes to try and smooth the tension. “They tend to work better with strings.”

“I truly am. It’s beautiful handiwork, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Jonghyun says, brown eyes entirely earnest. Jinki’s pride swells, and when Jonghyun reaches out toward the limb with a small May I?, he can’t help but nod and encourage it.

“I can’t imagine how much work it would be to carve that many etchings into so small a space…”

“It was a bit difficult, especially since I couldn’t decide how to word things.” When Jonghyun looks up at him with burning curiosity, he swears internally — he shouldn’t have revealed the etching on the handle had meanings. It would have been better to let Jonghyun think it was nonsense.

“It’s Tevene, I assume?” He asks, voice soft.

Jinki gives a stiff nod.

“What does it say?”

Jinki looks down. Jonghyun’s thumb is right against the last line he carved — those who had been slaves were now free — and the thought of trying to explain every layer of its importance to him makes his tongue weigh like lead.

“I’m sorry,” Jonghyun steps back with an apologetic smile. “I’m prying, aren’t it? You don’t have to share, if it’s personal,” Jonghyun says, but the way he leans in makes it obvious he’s interested.

“No, it’s alright.” Jinki swallows. It would be good to share the meaning with someone, especially considering the person he had done it in honor of had never even noticed the etchings. “It’s Taemin’s favorite canticle from the Chant of Light.”

“The Chant of Light?” Jonghyun raises a brow. “That’s a bit odd for a Dalish bow.”

“I suppose.” Jinki bites his lip. “Though it’s not a recognized part of the Chant any longer. Not since the _shems_ stole the Dales from us. It’s the story of Shartan and the other elves that escaped Tevinter joining Andraste to fight for their freedom. I wasn’t sure my clan would like it, which is why I translated it into Tevene. But…I wanted something to remember Taemin by after he left. Our bows are traditionally carved with something for the goddess of the hunt, but I already have the _vallaslin_ —” Jinki gestures to his face when Jonghyun furrows his brows in confusion. “Our facial markings — for her. I thought I might as well make the bow something of my own.”

Jonghyun’s eyes travel over his face, down the lines Jinki knows run from his cheekbones to his mouth before he seems to realize he’s staring and looks down quickly, attention back on the bow and a pink tint to his cheeks. “I knew you and Taemin were old friends, but I’m not sure I realized just how much you meant to each other.” Jonghyun smiles, lips tight at the edges. “You’re very close.”

“We still are, even apart,” Jinki says. He runs his thumb slowly over the words he had carved two years ago, choosing his next words carefully. “He’ll always be one of my greatest friends.”

Jonghyun’s fingers run along the stem, the gesture less tense than it had been moments ago. “Thank you for telling me what it means.”

He stops his hand just before it reaches Jinki’s grip, but the heat of it still seems to carry through the wood. Jinki can feel it blooming in his cheeks, and his stomach gives a traitorous flutter before he tugs the bow back.

They move through the woods further in silence. Jinki isn’t sure if they’re still hunting anymore, or if Jonghyun is even trying — whenever he turns around, Jonghyun seems more focused on his back than looking ahead of them for a deer or a hare. He manages to convince himself he’s imagining it until he lets Jonghyun fall ahead of him, and then the direction of his attention is obvious — he keeps glancing back over his shoulder to ensure Jinki is behind him.

When they reach the curved creek east of Jonghyun’s cabin, Jonghyun looks back at him with a small smile that makes Jinki’s cheeks warm, then crosses through the water.

Jinki stands at the edge of the rock, blinking slowly at the hand Jonghyun offers to him. He doesn’t need help crossing the stream. Jonghyun should know that — and it’s obvious he does, from the nervous smile on his face. The hand meanst something else.

After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out. His whole body buzzes when Jonghyun’s hand clasps around his fingers, and his heart leaps in his chest when he jumps forward over the water as Jonghyun helps pull him across. The pebbles on the other side of the bank are warm under his feet when he lands just in front of Jonghyun.

He counts ten breaths as they stand still — six of his own, fast and nervous, and four of Jonghyun’s, deep and hesitant. For once, Jinki’s instincts are telling him to stay, even when Jonghyun leans forward close enough that he has to peer up through his lashes to meet Jinki’s eyes.

If Jonghyun had continued, Jinki would have turned and left. Instead, he stops inches away, as if knowing exactly what Jinki needs. The nervous line of his lips twitches with impatience, but he waits still, gaze hovering between Jinki’s lips and his eyes in an attempt read him.

He fits his hands around Jonghyun’s shoulders to feel the differences— Jonghyun is small, where the magister was tall, and every feature is so much softer. His focus slips too naturally to the round curve of Jonghyun’s bottom lip, the graceful line where it meets the other, the dips at the corners — and there’s that pull again, that pull that drives him forward with a racing heart until he’s cupping Jonghyun’s cheek to make their mouths meet more easily.

The fact that it’s a pleasant feeling scares him the most.

He can’t excuse this. It’s not night, and he’s not drunk, and he’s still leaning forward to feel more of Jonghyun’s lips against his own.

When he pulls back and sees Jonghyun’s smile, he finds himself at a loss for words.

“Well.” The word comes out as half a laugh when Jonghyun covers his mouth. “You, um — I didn’t expect that, and wasn’t sure if you’d wanted —” he presses his thumb at the corner of his lips. “I worried — I thought — that it might just be the liquor. I’m not sure what to make of this now.”

The pointed tips of Jinki’s ears burn. When had there become a _this_? He turns away to the trees behind them, wanting the comfort of the forest, where things made sense and humans didn’t stare at him like he was the light between the leaves.

“I don’t know either. I don’t know if —” Jinki swallows, knowing Jonghyun is waiting for his words. “I don’t even know if I’m capable of anything like this.”

“That’s alright,” Jonghyun says, the same softness in his voice from when Taemin had been ill. “I don’t mind that. So long as I’m not a replacement.”

“You’re not,” Jinki says, facing Jonghyun again. He’s surprised at how quick the response comes to him, and how sure he is that it’s true.

You’re something new, he wants to say, but that still feels too big a concept to put into words. Instead, he brushes a hand down the bare skin of Jonghyun’s arm until he has his wrist in his hand and his pulse under his thumb. He lingers over the touch until his heart skitters like a scared halla, then steps back, unsure what to do with the smile now blooming again on Jonghyun’s lips.

Finding his next words feels like rooting through the bushes for a lost arrow, and he has to swallow to wet his tongue enough to speak. “We should get the hunt finished, before Taemin wakes.”

“Probably,” Jonghyun agrees. He scans the forest ahead, lips fixed somewhere between the smile that had made Jinki retreat and a frown. “You can lead the way.”

***

Dawn has just barely begun to light the cabin when Taemin begins to pack. The quick slip of a belt through a buckle and the soft clink of the canteens inside wake Jinki, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He waits a few minutes longer, until he’s certain Taemin is outside with his things, to uncover himself from the sheets.

Taemin has few items, but the room already looks emptier without them. The leather cylinders of his maps no longer hog the little space free of books Jonghyun’s desk, and his rolled-up bedroll for travel leaves an empty corner of the cabin.

Jinki swallows at the sudden tightness in his chest. He’d thought Taemin leaving on good terms would be easier, but it isn’t. He doesn’t have anger to ease the parting, or the goal of earning his vallaslin to distract him once he’s gone.

He forces himself out of bed before those thoughts can weigh on him, only sparing a quick glance to Jonghyun before slipping outside.

A blissful smile rests on Taemin’s lips as he stares at the southern border of the clearing that clenches at Jinki’s heart. Of course he’d be happy to leave after months of confinement to a cabin in the woods. Taemin is too restless to stay anywhere long. And as much as it hurts to know he’s excited about leaving, he can’t take it personally.

Doesn’t mean he can’t make him sweat for it. A bit of amusement could keep the sadness at bay a while longer.

Crossing his arms, Jinki juts out his chin and gives a mocking huff of disapproval. “You have your stuff packed already, really? You planned on leaving without saying goodbye?”

Taemin turns to him, eyes wide and innocent. “I didn’t realize you were up! You know I wouldn’t do that to you, I just wanted to get my things—”

“I was just teasing, don’t worry.” Jinki moves one of Taemin’s packs leaning against the fence and takes its place. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Me either.” Taemin shakes his head and chuckles. “You scared me though. I thought you really were mad…”

Both of them turn when the cabin door opens.

“I heard you both get up.” Jonghyun rubs at his eyes, shuffling forward to join them. His face falls when he sees the packs sitting next to Taemin. “Still leaving today?”

“Yeah.” Taemin stretches his arms over his head. “And since you’re up, I think I’ll be off.”

Jonghyun frowns. “What about breakfast? You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“I had a snack,” Taemin says. “And don’t protest.” He wags his finger. “I remember how you stuffed me full the last time I left, Jonghyun — all those berries and bread and bacon. It was delicious, but I know better than to travel with an overstuffed stomach now. Makes me sick.”

Jonghyun gives a sigh of resignation. “Alright.”

A long moment passes where no one speaks. Taemin’s hands fidget towards his bag when he looks up at the sky to the rising sun. The humidity from the summer morning weighs heavier.

Someone has to break the tension. Nudging Taemin’s shoulder, Jinki forces out a smile. “Taemin, you remember what I told you?”

Taemin tilts his head and blinks. “Don’t talk to strangers?”

Jinki pinches him. “Don’t be smart. About keeping bells on the door wherever you sleep. You have some?”

“Yes, Jinki.” Taemin sighs and reaches down into his pack, pulling them out and shaking them with an obnoxiously loud ring to prove he’d done as instructed. “I’ll hang them above the door of any room I stay in, and the flap of any tent. You feel better now?”

Jinki swallows tightly. “As much as I can. Are you still headed to Ferelden?”

Taemin nods. “I’ve heard the leader of the Chantry is headed to some small town there. I want to see her for myself, if I can…I’ve always wanted to meet Her Holiness, since she seems to have a great vision for what the Maker wants.  I’ll have a better chance of seeing her there than wandering into Val Royeaux.”

Jinki sucks in a harsh breath. “You still think you’ll be able to get there? Ferelden is awfully far.”

“I’ll make it safely, don’t worry.” Taemin adjusts his pack. “If I can make it all the way here from Wycome when I’m dying of illness, I can make it to Ferelden in good health. I hear it’s the best country for elves, too.”

Jinki grimaces. “Somehow, I doubt the best is friendly. Stay out of trouble, and don’t try and go to that supposed peace talk between the templars and the mages. I doubt it’ll end well.”

Taemin blinks at him in shock. “I’m surprised you know about that.”

“Well, you know — information travels like wind, especially since we trade with humans.” Jinki rubs at his nose. He doesn’t want to admit he’d begged the last clan member to visit a human village for information about the area Taemin was headed. “Just try not to get in trouble pursuing your religious pilgrimage.”

“It’s not strictly a pilgrimage…I’m just wandering.” Taemin shrugs. “Of course, if the Maker leads me to some path, I’ll follow it. Whether that involves the Chantry or no.”

“Careful when you do, though,” Jonghyun adds. “I doubt the war will end so soon, and I wouldn’t want you to get caught in the middle.”

“Yes, yes, avoid the war, I know.” Taemin rolls his eyes. “You two are worse than parents. I’ve been traveling for the past two years, I know how to avoid a few battles.”

“I hope so.” Jinki sighs.

“I ought to get going. I want to make it to Ostwick by the end of the week, if I can.”

A sniffle from Jonghyun catches him off guard. When Jinki looks over, his eyes are red and wet, cheeks already puffed from held-back tears. The sight of it brings a pitying smile to Taemin’s lips, and he reaches out, bringing Jonghyun into his arms.

“You promised you wouldn’t cry this time, Jonghyun.”

“I’ll miss you,” Jonghyun murmurs, shoulders shaking under Taemin’s hands.

Taemin squeezes back. “You too. I hope that damn war ends soon so you feel safe enough to go into civilization for a bit. You could use another visit to that shady inn to loosen up a little.”

Jonghyun barks a laugh against Taemin’s shoulder before he pulls back. His eyes crinkle with a mixture of mirth and tears. “You’re calling it shady? You acted like I shouldn’t complain you stayed there.”

Taemin chews his lip. “Well, you know…”

“He’ll say anything to get us to stop worrying,” Jinki interrupts, earning him a guilty smile from Taemin.

“This is why I can’t stick around you, Jinki — childhood friends know each other too well.” He steps forward to embrace Jinki in a long hug. His chin shifts against Jinki’s collar as he murmurs to him, uncharacteristically sincere. “I mean what I said about traveling safely, though. I know how to do that. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’ll trust you on that,” Jinki says. His eyes burn when he tightens his arms around Taemin, and he grits his teeth. He’s not going to allow himself to cry. “ _Dareth shiral,_ Taemin.”

For once, Taemin doesn’t tease him for the elvish. He clutches Jinki tighter one last time, then pushes back, a half-broken smile on his lips. “Next time I visit, I’ll plan ahead and bring back something nice.” He reaches out squeeze to Jonghyun’s shoulder. “For both of you.”

Only Jonghyun seems to have the ability to speak through his tears. “I’d like that.”

“You say that now, but wait until I bring back a mabari for you. Not sure you’d be able to handle a dog.”

Jonghyun laughs. “I’d find a way.”

Taemin grins and picks up his packs. One last pat for each of them on the shoulder, and he begins walking backward towards the south of the clearing.

Jonghyun and Jinki stand still, watching the layers of trees between them grow thicker and thicker until Taemin disappears entirely. The air between them feels off balance with the loss of his presence.

“Well.” Jonghyun’s voice rattles in his chest when he finally speaks. He turns to Jinki, but his eyes look past him. “I suppose you’ll be off soon?”

“I should. My clan is even further east now, so it’ll take a full day for me to return.”

“Ah, right. I forgot they moved.” Jonghyun smiles down at his hands.

Jinki looks down. His toes curl uncomfortably in the grass beneath them. He’s hesitant to lift the unspoken weight between them.

Saying that he’ll return would be a heavy promise. An acknowledgment of whatever it is that made him not outright hate the mage any longer, and the strange easiness between them the few and temporary times Taemin had been absent. Part of what made it possible to give Jonghyun the little bit of openness he allowed was the knowledge he could avoid the cabin and never return if he wanted to. A promise would take away that last escape, and he’s reluctant to give it up.

He takes a slow step away. “Take care, Jonghyun. Thank you for helping return Taemin’s health.”

“Of course. It was only the right thing to do.” Jonghyun says. His smile is tight, and the usual gleam in his eye is only a trick of the light from the remaining wetness of his tears. “You take care too, Jinki.”

Guilt nettles in Jinki’s stomach — he should assure Jonghyun, say he might visit — but he says nothing when he turns to the forest and leaves.

***

The cabin is quieter than he remembers. There’s no humming or singing to accompany the gentle rustle of garden work, and through the trees Jinki can see that Jonghyun’s lips are fixed in an impassive line.

His throat resists the urge to give a greeting, and he lacks the nerve to fight it. He approaches closer to the cabin, hoping that Jonghyun will notice him, but the man’s attention never leaves the plants beneath his hands.

A deliberate step on a dry branch makes his presence known.

Jonghyun’s head snaps up. He blinks rapidly, as if the elf in front of him were an impossible mirage, before speaking. “Jinki?”

The tone is so hopeful, the tips of Jinki’s ears turn pink. He nods and waves a greeting, then makes his way over to the garden.

“I didn’t think…” Jonghyun trails off as he examines him with wide eyes. He reaches up to fix his disheveled hair, only to stop when he remembers his hands are covered in dirt and sap from the herb he’d been harvesting. He shakes them off by his hips. “How’ve you been? Are you here to trade?”

“Nothing to trade.” Jinki shrugs. “I thought to bring halla butter for a pie, but I think it would melt quickly in this heat. It’s not even keeping in the aravels. You’ve been well?”

“Yes.” Jonghyun bites his lip. He’s a poor liar, but he still tries. “I’ve been fine.”

Jinki’s fingers itch when the silence stretches between them. Though lines of Jonghyun’s brow give away his loneliness, he still has the same warm eyes and full lips that drew Jinki in the last time they stood close in the forest. He wants to reach out, to touch Jonghyun’s shoulder, something, but the fence is still between them and Jonghyun has made no move to close the space.

He rubs at his neck, shifting his hand around to brush against his throat. “Can I get a cold drink? The heat doesn’t seem to be waning, and it was a long walk.”  

“Of course, I’m sorry — I should have offered. I’m being a poor host.” Jonghyun spares him a smile before he climbs over the fence and dunks his hands in the pail by the house to clean them. He pushes the cabin door open with his shoulder to avoid touching the wood with wet hands. “I have my clean water in here, I’ll fix you something quick.”

While Jonghyun hurries to the counter to prepare him a drink, Jinki stands at the doorway, now unsure of his place inside.

Few details of the cabin have changed, but they say enough. The bed is made, which Taemin had never bothered to do when he was using it, and both of the cots have been tucked away in the corner of the cabin. All the chairs of the table are pushed in fully, and when Jinki finally decides to take a seat, the sound of him dragging one out is loud enough to make Jonghyun flinch.

He recovers from it with a self-depreciating laugh, and his next words are said with his back still turned. “I’d forgotten how quiet the cabin gets when it’s just me.”

Jinki hums an acknowledgement, feeling too guilty for the few days he had left Jonghyun alone to find a proper response. He remembers that feeling from when Taemin first left, but there had been the clan to fill its space.

Jonghyun sets a full glass of water in front of him. Crystals in the perfect, symmetrical shapes of magicked ice float inside, but Jinki doesn’t hesitate to bring the drink to his lips.

At the first sip, Jinki’s brows shoot up in surprise at the first. “It’s sweet?”

“I added berries to it. And mint.” Jonghyun’s cheeks are pink. “I thought you might like it.”

“I do.” Jinki smiles and drinks the rest quickly, hoping the cold water can keep his own flush at bay. He’d managed to avoid thinking of the trinket in his pocket so far, but the thoughtfulness is a firm reminder of what had drawn him to return.

Garden work apparently forgotten for the day, Jonghyun takes the seat nearest him with a tired sigh. The clicks of late summer cicadas take over the cabin when silence falls between them again. The longer it goes on, the harder it is to break, and Jinki is afraid he won’t find the courage to speak if he lets it linger.

“I brought something for you.”

Jonghyun turns his head to him. “You did? I thought you said you weren’t trading today.”

“It’s not for trading.” Jinki rolls the wrapped carving between his fingers before reaching into his pocket. He pulls out the miniature crystal grace flower he had whittled and unwraps it. “I know you probably don’t have use for this kind of thing. I make them to pass the time off hunts, but I usually just leave them outside when I’m done since the clan has no use for them either. We don’t have room in the aravels to keep frivolous things.”

“I can’t imagine throwing out something this pretty.” Jonghyun reaches out for the flower. He traces around the carefully-carved petals in wonder, either unaware or uncaring that each movement brushes his fingers against the calloused skin of Jinki’s palm.  

When Jonghyun finally looks up, there’s a smile on his lips that reaches all the way to his eyes. The corner of the table between them seems smaller, and the space of the cabin so little. Though Jinki’s heart races, the dance it sets in his pulse is one that he likes.

“Thank you,” Jonghyun murmurs. His fingers close gently around the gift, and when Jinki closes his own around them, his lips part into a breathless smile.

Jinki means to do something more then — Jonghyun likely has little idea the significance and rarity of a gift from anyone Dalish, who rarely trade sentiment trinkets even with their spouses — but it takes him till the next morning to find the nerve for it. Jonghyun is at the last row of his garden, tending to a vine, and Jinki is sitting on the nearest edge of the fence, playing a game of watching and conspicuous not-watching as the sun rises higher over them.

He waits until Jonghyun is lost in his task, mouth pursed in perfect concentration, to stand and step closer. When Jonghyun tips his head towards him in question, he cups his cheek and leans in, covering Jonghyun’s lips with his own. Dirt-covered hands fumble to his shoulders a short second later, and Jinki’s heart thunders in his chest when Jonghyun turns and tilts his head to give him a better angle.

A brush of leaves against his cheek makes him jump back. Jonghyun smiles at him, breathless and sheepish. “Sorry. I…lost control of my magic for a bit.”

Jinki glances over at the plant. the unnatural growth has stretched its stalk thin, and the entire plant quakes under the effort of supporting its new nearly-translucent leaves. Months ago, he would have recoiled from any magic, let alone a spell gone awry, but now — because it’s Jonghyun, the mage with warm eyes and even warmer hands — it only makes his lips quirk in amusement.

“I suppose I should warn you the next time I want to do that,” Jinki says.

“Yes,” Jonghyun agrees. His skin darkens with a pleasant flush at the promise in _next time_. “I suppose so.”

**Author's Note:**

> During this fic, the Lavellan clan is wandering somewhere between Ansburg and Wycome. Everything in this universe should all be plausibly canon compliant for the DA universe – I tried to structure it so that everyone is a feasible background character, and used titles instead of character names where necessary to keep naming consistent. Some things were also described more generically/briefly, in order to make it readable for people unfamiliar with the universe. This fic starts around 9:40 Dragon, after the mage/templar war has picked up a bit, but before all the events of Inquisition and the Conclave. The title is from the Dalish way of the bow, Vir Bor'assan.


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